Fanganronpa UK: Prosperity
by ToonGuy
Summary: In the United Kingdom, in a world sans the Tragedy, twenty Ultimate Teachers prepare for a new term at Prosperity, Hope's Peak sister school for ultimates. But when they're locked inside by two mechanical monsters, cut off from the rest of the world, a new curriculum is in order. A Killing Lesson Plan. New world, new characters, new country, same old despair.
1. Prologue-Part 0

_Talent is contradictory. We have an abundance of it, yet are far too often blind to it. It Is within reaching distance, and yet there are many whom despite their best efforts cannot grasp it._

 _The chosen few who do get a hold of it also suffered. For they had the know-how to create a better world, and yet were not given the tools for which to carry this out. These Ultimates were at the forefront of Izuru Kamakura's mind in the dying days of the second world war, even more so than the tragedies that would be wrought upon that country. And so, while the country recovered, he proposed and received a grant for an academy dedicated to making sure that the Ultimates could become productive members of society._

 _This, in a nutshell, was the idea behind the construction of Hope's Peak Academy. Japan intended the academy to be THE premier school for gifted people. It didn't matter the talent, big or small, vital or frivolous, if you were the best of the best, and of high school age, you were in luck. It prospered for years under the guiding hands of, originally, Izuru Kamakura, then Kazuo Tengan and since 2002, Jin Kirigiri._

 _Since it's inception, the success rate of the students who have attended there has been phenomenal. Among those nurtured in this bosom of interest are several high ranking scientists, entertainers, writers, campaigners, artists and even a prime minister of some reknown._

 _But only for Japan. And thus, the rest of the world was left to angrily wait outside, looking in, with only the occasional foreign exchange student giving them any piece of the very lucrative and very worthwhile work that the Acadmey did._

 _Until, that is, the year nineteen sixty-seven._

 _On that year, Prime Minister Harold Wilson of the United Kingdom and Prime Minister Eisaku Satō of Japan came to an agreement, with the backing of then Vice-Headmaster Tengan, to construct a school that operated similarly to Hope's Peak in Britain. Obviously, though the criteria of what the school should expect from it's pupils would remain much the same, the process would be very much Anglicanised for the purposes of the UK. It was agreed that, in order to avoid potential arguments amongst England, Wales, Northern Ireland and Scotland about whom would host this academy and other such nitpicky questions, that new ground must be broken._

 _Considered a folly by many, the newly named 'Prosperity' Academy was not expected to make it's due date, and was instead suggested to be a pipe dream, a promise that Wilson could not have delivered upon, especially in light of the rumours regarding someone spying upon him._

 _It was, then, quite surprising to all when Prosperity was opened on schedule, in nineteen sixty-eight, as the first sixteen students took their place in the annuals of history. The school opened upon an artificially created Island, a result of the US, UK and Japan contributing to create something of a technological marvel. The deal had been intended to open the door to a US school of a similar nature, but that sadly was not to be, as all further attempts to create such a school were disrupted by in-company squabbling._

 _And since then, Prosperity has...well, prospered._

 _It cannot be understated as to the effects on British culture that this Academy has provided. In terms of politics, over sixty percent of those in political roles at the Academy have ascended to a cabinet of some sort. In entertainment, musicians, actors, dancers, special effects designers and many, many others have taken the world by storm, creating iconic work/performance after iconic work/performance. In literature, some have argued that the next Dickens or Orwell have emerged from this crucible, and in terms of sciences, the United Kingdom is starting to become a ground-breaking super power once more. Hope's Peak, currently entering the eighties with it's classes, is still miles and away the most recognizable of these schools, but little by little, Prosperity is beginning to surmount that pinnacle._

 _The staff are mostly former pupils, these 'Ultimates' who were given so much and now wish to give back. So, if you are considering joining up, think on this. You must be prepared for a lot of hard work ahead. It will be trying. But the rewards you will reap will be quite substantive._

...

The letter had come out of the blue. They had applied, of course they had, but that had mostly been due to urging on their sister's part.

"Go for it! I went to Prosperity, and look at me! And look at you." She had said in THAT kind of way. "And then look at me! See what a world of good it's done for me! And besides, it'll get you out from under my feet!"

They owned the house. She did not. This rankled a little bit with them, but at the same time there was no denying that the idea of applying to such a prestigious position was not a bad one necessarily.

The article was penned by someone who merely signed it as 'LITTLE WONDER'. It was an article in a newspaper of some renown, arguing for the continued existence of Prosperity. It was quite convincing too. Though if it was what they thought it was, namely, a plant from the Academy itself, there was probably a good reason for that.

Casually, they flipped onto another tab, and examined the staff members. They paid little attention to the pictures, though the hair on some people did cause them to raise an eyebrow. _That has to be dyed, right? No one had hair THAT colour naturally._

 _Ultimate Baker. Ultimate Surgeon. Ultimate Thespian. Ultimate Scholar. Ultimate Chemist. Ultimate Footballer._

 _What a cast._

They looked at this article, biting their lip. Then they looked at the letter once more, holding it with trembling hands that couldn't quite hide the nervous excitement. Finally, with a burst of effort, they stood up and made their way to the telephone.

Perhaps...maybe it would be good to move out of her shadow, for a change.

In retrospect, perhaps it had been wiser if they had just decided to not bother. But they didn't. They dialled the number that was mentioned in the letter, waited for a voice, and when it came, spoke:

"Hello, I'm Pat Elton? I received a letter from you. Regarding the job, is there someone I can talk to? It sounds like a very...fulfilling experience"

 **Pat Elton: Ultimate Backup: Supply Teacher**

* * *

Welcome, ladies, gentlemen and those who wish to identify as otherwise, to Dangan Ronpa United Kingdom: Prosperity.

You might be wondering, well, this is an odd first chapter, isn't it? It's very short, fairly exposition heavy, and doesn't really introduce you to many of the characters. That is true, but as I hope to name this when I upload a second chapter, this is more set-dressing than anything else. This is not a SYOC, but I've always appreciated that the first chapter most will read in that type of fanfiction gives a fair account of how things are going to proceed. Consider this a test-run more than anything. I have, at present, nearly completed the entire prologue. But I figured I might as well test the waters for the most part, see what people think of the setting for my story.

A few points I feel I should cover.

-This is an AU. As you will have noticed by the mention of Hope's Peak having surpassed 77-B and 78, the game's events have not come to pass, and this is set in a timeline where Hope's Peak, for better or for ill, has continued much as it would have done were it not for the tragedy. The world is just as it normally was.  
-The main character, as you can see here, is non-binary. My apologies if I have screwed up in any respect in this representation, but if I have, I will get better with it. We'll obviously find out a bit more about them in the next chapter.  
-The participants in this killing game will number twenty in total. I understand that is a lot, but I feel that I have a fairly decent cast of characters and, for the most part, I have allocated dialogue fairly decently. There will also be ways to break the cast down, but we'll get to that when we get to the introductions.  
-Said cast will be comprised of teaching staff. I want to make the story a little different from the norm, and as such, a wider age range means a wider variety of character types. Plus, I can make it themed, so all the subjects I imagine would be in a British Ultimate School will have a representative here. The introduction above will be the norm for introductions. Name: Talent: Position at Prosperity.  
-This setting is British, primarily because I am not going to try and do a Japanese-set story, due to my lack of knowledge and fear of screwing things up on that front. I am British, and therefore I feel marginally more confident in my ability to handle this. I will try and make any references clearer in my author's notes, though hopefully I will not need to explain that much.  
-A quick note, more a side-thing than anything, this fanfiction will potentially include relationships, some of which will not be straight. Bringing this up now to get that out there, if that isn't your thing, you are not going to enjoy this story.

And that is about it. I hope that you think this is, at the very least, interesting. And hopefully I will put the first large part of the prologue up as soon as I can. Stay gold!


	2. Prologue-Part 1A

_**TheRoseShadow21:** Ah, hello! Good to see another UK fan on here. Yes, I will admit that I may have set it out like a SYOC and confused people, sorry! It was originally going to be one, but for numerous reasons it wasn't. I feel better somehow, if this doesn't work out, that all the characters in this are my own, and therefore I do not have to worry about letting anyone down if I get their characters wrong. Also, I came up with some specific ideas and I figured it would be easier for me to take full control of all of it. Thank you for your kind words, I hope this is equally as interesting._

 _ThePLOTHand: Thank you for both! Yes, the idea of having teachers was to make what happens to the group feel more personal. It's bad enough when, supposed, strangers are killed. But if it's your own colleagues and friends? More despair for all._

 _Well, here we are! I hope that this is satisfactory, and I apologize if it is all a bit much at present. There is quite a significant amount to go through. I have, for the purposes of not overwhelming you, split the character introductions up into two. This covers the first nine, ten if you include Pat as we're getting more of an insight into them. Though I am making sure to leave some details of Pat's life for later, so as to maintain a sense of tension. The plan thus far is for the Prologue to have three parts to it not counting the 'program' as I have decided to call it._

 _There is one thing I should note here, regarding the colour of some characters hair. Now, obviously in a real British school, most of the teachers probably wouldn't have some of the hair I am giving them. I am going to use the Dangan Ronpa defence, however, in which it states that having to work out different synonyms for the colours black, red, brown and blonde gets very boring very fast. So...you've got some anime style hair in this story as well._

 _Hope this peaks your interest!_

* * *

 _Hello, my name is Pat Elton, it's lovely to be-_

 _Hmmm, too formal._

 _Hello, you…you can call me Pat, it's great to-_

 _Too informal._

Pat Elton looked glumly at their hands, which appeared to be the only part of their body that had received the desired effects of the five cups of coffee they had downed before getting on the boat.

They did not like boats. They did not like the sea. They did not like being on a boat AT sea. So why they had chosen to go to, of all places, an Island where both were pretty much necessities, was still something they were trying to wrap their head around. The man piloting the small, rather cheap looking boat had been polite enough before lapsing into a moody, quiet silence, but even that hadn't distracted Pat from the feeling in their stomach.

Shivering, they drew the slightly oversized coat around themselves. In retrospect, this was not what they should have brought, they thought to themselves grimly. It did not make a 'good' impression. But it had been rather a rush to get down here. The letter had come with a rather abrupt phone-call, in which the receptionist practically begged them to get a move on straight away, for some sort of incident (Her own words) had happened, and they were in need of Pat's services.

Their talent was one that tended to get mocked a fair bit. Ultimate Backup. Never the first one to be thought of, always the second banana. Which was fine, honestly. Before they had gotten into the current job, they had imagined that their talent would be the Ultimate Understudy, or something like that. They'd manage to get a decent job acting, getting some money some nights just for turning up. And their sister had needed her in a few of her more expensive and lavish shows as...well, crowd fodder. Which was fine. Even if she did bring it up a lot.

And then...well, one thing had lead to another and suddenly being her second didn't seem quite so good. Determined to better themselves, they had put forward an application to act as a supply teacher, and three years on, they had managed to transition to this job quite well. Taking over from those who were ill, or had left in suspicious circumstances and the like. It was a good job, for the most part. Clearly it had gotten the attention of someone important. Prosperity had decided that a backup was needed in case anything went a little weird with one of their staff, which was to be expected.

 _My, my hands are sweaty. God, should I have kept this or not? Why haven't I put it away yet? Ugh, get it together._

The letter had also come with a free...well, brochure was probably the correct word for it, but the size of it made Pat think of a novella, which they were holding as the boat glided on. Page upon page of information regarding Prosperity, which in one respect was useful, and in another, was putting more pressure on them than they needed. The purple colour-scheme, the crispness of the paper, even the somewhat bizarre pictures of a somewhat more kiddy friendly mascot on the back, gave off a privileged sort of feel. After all, Pat could think, off the top of their head, of maybe two or three schools in the UK that used mascots, and weren't laughed at by the community as a whole.

Prosperity was the nerve centre of a mechanically constructed Island. It had been one of the first major developments in technology back in the sixties, a Second Industrial Revolution thanks to the rapid popularity of Ultimates, when first it had been constructed. There were, or so Pat had heard, at least twenty to thirty miles from the Island to the nearest port.

And thus, there tended to be a number of teachers who cracked under the pressure of being isolated to an extent for long periods of time.

Why Pat had accepted this job, they hadn't quite worked out yet. As had been clear, they were in dire need of better clothes. Pat Elton had been described, in appearance at least, as awkward. Maybe that was something to do with the fact that regardless of the heat they had always managed to find themselves wrapped up in the light brown anorak, one that was two sizes bigger than it really needed to be, that they were currently wearing. Nervousness came through a lot in their brown eyes and shy smiles, when they did smile, that is.

But apart from that, no one could fault them for professionalism. Standard grey sweater, a few extra pencils in the breast pocket of the anorak, a pair of sensible trousers, it was all in order. Their black hair was usually done up in a sort of ponytail, but they had decided to go for free this time around, just to see how things progressed.

"Land ho!" called the pilot, as if he was in some sort of old movie. Pat shot up to their feet, and regretted it instantly, sitting back down with a thump. The Island was a large and rather unseemly blotch upon the ocean, with rock that appeared almost rusty red and grass that was far greener than it had any right to be. As they drew near to a large, rather expensive looking dock, Pat was surprised to see how well-maintained it all looked. The boards looked impressively in good shape, considering that it was, well, a dock.

"Need a hand, miss?"

No point in correcting him. "J-Just, please help me get my stuff up?"

He did as they asked, quickly dumping each bag up with ease. He tipped his cap, and as they climbed aboard, he turned and began to sail back without so much as a word.

So with nothing else to do. Pat turned towards the Island itself.

For a moment, it was as though the world had gone slightly wobbly. Like they had been falling asleep, and then jerking awake. They took a deep breath, staggered upright and-

"GOOD DAY!"

Pat nearly shrieked and leapt out of their skin, and coat. They gripped the railing, soaking wet to stop themselves from falling, swallowed and looked up at the speaker. "A-Ah! Hello! Lovely, it is, to be here, Pat my name is-" They swallowed. "Ah. Sorry, um…are you-?"

If the woman detected anything strange about Pat, and who couldn't to be frank, she did not show it. She smiled a smile that was far whiter than anyone could have imagined, and bowed. "Greetings, Pat Elton, Ultimate Supply Teacher! My apologies for keeping you waiting, but I needed to gather most of the staff together! There are still some who are taking their time, but I have at least nine or ten ready!" Her entire voice seemed to be pep personified.

So too did her clothes. It was quite startling just how… _pink_ the tunic was. It wasn't as if it was frilly, if anything it more resembled a Star Trek uniform, but it was so stand out that it took Pat a moment to adjust to the colour of it. Her shoes appeared to be trainers, which Pat could respect, if not entirely understand.

The smile rested upon a rather round face, with a beauty mark just underneath her left eye. Both eyes were a rather beautiful shade of green, while her hair, red hair that was one or two shades away from being pink itself, was cut in a little bob.

"You're, uh, quite stealthy."

She laughed at that. It was a little odd. "Yes! You have to be here! May I show you to the main building?! We should get the introductions started!"

"Oh, uh, right. ….My b-bags?"

"Will be taken care of!" _That was almost sing-song like, bloody hell._ "Please, if we can keep on moving, we have a lot to get done with!"

Pat hesitated. Should they just put the luggage they had down, or...? And then they saw a small trolley, like a shopping cart of sorts, make it's way along the edge. After staring at it for a moment, they put the luggage on and watched as it scuttled away.

"Huh. Welcome to the future." They murmured.

Well, there was little point in arguing. As they got up, Pat prepared their biggest smile possible. Confidence, they thought, was the key to getting along with everyone. They just needed to project a lot of good, strong emotions and all would be well.

"Um-" Pat started. "Who are you?"

The woman paused, as if thinking over the many meanings of those words. Then her smile dimmed, and then returned with a good deal more light. "I never introduced myself, did I?! Apologies! I am HALLIE! I'm also the Deputy Head!"

"H...Hallie? Hallie wha-"

And that was when Pat realized that there were no footprints on the ground where HALLIE was currently standing. None at all.

 _Ah. A hologram. Right. Of course. Sure. That makes sense. That makes all the sense. Of course. I see._

That had been what they had considered saying, to try and sound relatively laid-back. Instead, they stumbled out a:

"OH GOD! I am…okay! Sorry, I-uh, I don't...meet a lot of holograms!"

"It is fine! For most newcomers, that is acceptable, and most don't even apologize!" HALLIE's smile widened. It was...somewhat larger than an average human's smile. Pat themselves offered a shaky grin, more an attempt to appease than anything else.

There had always been rumours that many hadn't believed, that the Deputy Head was such a stressful position that no human being could ever fulfil it properly, so the Academy had funnelled enough money into creating the most realistic A.I there was and give it a sort of physical form. But that always seemed to be just a little too far-fetched to be true for Pat.

A lifetime of being with schoolkids had meant that they were quick to adapt to things that were...outside the norm, but still, to see a hologram who was so lifelike was quite something.

"Does it stand for something, your name?"

HALLIE tilted her head and thought. "Hmm….No idea!" She laughed. "You can ask my handler, when we see her! Now, we should probably hurry just a teenie tiny bit!"

"Oh, uh, yes! Of course. Sorry…ma'am."

And so they continued, in silence, up a long, winding path. There were too, actually, the one that they were on appeared to be a well maintained, garden-like path with smooth sandy paving stones, and with little to not litter. Not too far away, separated by a railing fence, was the more unsightly and rougher gravel path, probably walked by most of the students.

The school was massive, though oddly enough not really in size, more in just the feel of it. A real mismatch of building styles was present when it came to the buildings themselves There were some areas where the main architecture was clearly red brick, and others where there was a mixture of wooden panels and glass, a few areas where it appeared that caravans had been parked there and had their wheels removed. The building they were walking towards looked as though it had come straight out of a city, a large concrete block of about three floors.

As they stepped through the revolving door, a woman wearing a red dress, with what appeared to be an expression of true panic on her face, marched over. "HALLIE, you should have t-t-t-told me about-" She gestured at Pat, apparently lost for words, before bringing out a tablet and tapping on it. "Are you responding correctly?"

"Quite correctly, Ms Waterson! The headmaster informed me that I was to meet the new arrival personally, and that he had business to attend to!"

"A-Am I interrupting something?" Pat asked, feeling not for the first time that day as though they were out of her depth. The woman flushed, turned around and began to gesture wildly.

"N-No, I'm so-sorry it's just that the h-h-headmaster was supposed to meet you in person, and it's all a bit chaotic here and...and all the rest. Um, I'm HALLIE's creator, and the head of IT. I-It's very nice to meet you." There was a pause, and then as if remembering that she had missed a part out, blurted out. "Maria Waterson!"

 **Maria Waterson: Ultimate Coder: IT**

"Oh, hello. Uh, Pat Elton?" That had not meant to come out as a question, but somehow it had. _Well at least one person is just as nervous about this as me._

Maria's curled hair was practically platinum blonde, shining in what little light was there. She was small, maybe a little taller than the average student's height, same for her age as well. No more than twenty three at least. She bit her lip and grasped the sleeve of her dress. "Nice to m-m-meet you, um, did I say that already? Uh, I'm going to go and...get the others ready, the first lot are through there. HALLIE, p-please show her."

"Yes Ms Waterson!"

Maria tried to offer a smile, but it looked more than a little freaked out. She hurried off, the clacking of her heels filling the empty and noiseless room. HALLIE offered another one of those off-putting smiles, and floated on ahead, leaving Pat to take a quick look at the room. they were standing in.

The waiting room was reasonably even in temperature, the warmth was slowly returning to Pat's body after the boat ride over. If it was the middle of the day, they were sure that they would find the style to be quite refined. At present, however, with the sun setting in the background, it couldn't help but bring to mind several pieces of old art that the two siblings had once had to throw out of their parent's house. The kind that looked like a great deal of effort into making it look cozy and comfortable, and yet there was something off about it.

Maybe there was something about being in a school at night, especially when it was so quiet.

"We would light the building up!" declared HALLIE as she let Pat stop and catch breath. "But at present we want to keep as much of the electrics saved for the important stuff."

"Commendable, I-I'm sure."

The two of them approached a pair of white doors, clinical, like a hospital of sorts. Someone cautiously pushed the door forward, gave a quick glance to Pat and nodded to HALLIE. "Most of us are here, we sent Maria off to get the rest ready."

"Thank you! Well Pat Elton, here we go!"

That did not inspire much confidence in Pat, to be honest. But they opened the door, and took the plunge, so to speak.

The cantina was a decent one. The lighting at least helped avoid that sense of unease that the reception area had given, and the white floors and walls provided even more light to illuminate much of the surrounding room. For tables and chairs, the general theme seemed to be black and red. Plastic chairs that bore the scratchings and markings of many a teenager's boredom, tables that had clearly seen better days and were slightly more wobbly than necessary, even the laminated menus. This was something Pat was more used to. They could see, just to the left of this, a second pair of doors which they assumed lead to the kitchen.

but Pat's focus immediately went to the people gathered together, watching them. Carefully, as if trying to work out what their deal was.

All of Pat's thoughts about how to make a good impression bubbled together into one, rock solid introduction. Yes. This was the one.

"Hi."

Then again, perhaps not. A slow blush began to rise, cut off only by the nearest teacher moving forward.

"Hello! You're…Pat, right?"

"Y-yeah. Yeah! That is my name!" Pat laughed, it wasn't funny, they didn't know why they did it. The man smiled, sleepily, but with a hint of sympathy.

"Yeah, it is…ah, not really a thing that we do, these group meetings. No trouble getting here?"

"Just a bit of turbulence. And...a lot of damp."

"To be expected. Probably got Jim to drag you over? We mostly use the more comfortable boats for the kids, we mere teachers have to suffer the rickety one. Lords knows how you're so put together."

Pat couldn't help but feel a little rush of relief. This man, at the very least, seemed to be trying to put them at ease. The others had gone back to whatever they had been doing before hand, though glances were thrown her way.

"I've already told them all your name! So you can skip that boring part of the introductions! You might as well get the introductions over with!" And without even giving them a chance to say anything, off floated HALLIE to chat to some of the others. Two of them, in particular, who were gazing at the male teacher with...amusement? Something like that.

"You get used to her." The man assured Pat. "Still gives me the creeps whenever she forgets to use a door. Uh, forgetting meself. Good whatever-time-it-is. I'm…" He paused, and began to slide forward, impressively managing to stay upright for five seconds before his eyes forced themselves back open. "Ah, sorry, not sleeping very well.. Alphonse Bowman, Chemistry."

 **Alphonse Bowman: Ultimate Chemist: Chemistry**

The second the name was mentioned, Pat remembered a few things they had managed to dreg up in their research of the teachers. Alphonse had been something of a recluse for many years since he had graduated from Prosperity, and had remained a recluse by returning back to the academy. He was quite brilliant, there were several potential new elements that owed something to his discoveries. Or so they had been told.

Alphonse was a somewhat small man, though his lanky nature made it an interesting contrast with what might have been expected. His eyes, hidden behind a pair of standard lab goggles, were green, and he was completely bald save for a few scraggly bits that stuck out at odd angles. Even putting aside from the goggles, he appeared to have come straight from the lab. A white coat, which was clearly in need of refurbishment, covered up a green sweater and black trousers, which were streaked with a fair blotches and patches of stuff.

His eyes, half-lidded with sleep, glanced at them. "So, know what you're getting into?"

"Probably not, Mr Bowman."

Another smile graced his face. "Fair nuff. Don't let the rest of them give you shit, we're all just as bad as each other really." He glanced over toward the two others, one man and one woman who were giving him side-eye. "Some more so than others, true, but hey, ah, what can you do? And please, Al. Mr Bowman is my brother. The selfish, ah, git, who is glaring at me. You want to introduce yourselves, siblings mine?"

"Nope." said the male, childishly. "Not now you've insulted me. Us." He grabbed his sister. "Isn't that right, Nadia?"

"Yeah, sorry, looks like the little cosy introductions are going to have to wait until this one calms down." 'Nadia' dragged the brother towards the nearest window. "Chat to you later, this one needs some fresh air, and a major attitude adjustment."

"Oh...o-okay then."

Al glanced to Pat as his siblings disappeared. "They mean well." He remarked. "But he's a bit...highly strung, and she...well, do you have a sister?"

"Yes."

"Yeah. Exactly. You get it." He offered a dry little smirk. Pat laughed, more to release part of the knot forming in their chest than anything really. Al glanced behind him. "Hey. Roy. Shouldn't you, ah, be asleep by now?"

A thin reedy voice piped up. "No, Mr Bowman….er…Al." A far younger man stepped forward, looking like wanted to be anywhere else but here. Pat could sympathize. "I've been told that I h-have to stick around and listen to the meeting." He looked to them, shyly. "Um, hello, I guess. I'm the Student Council rep, Roy Watson!"

Pat nodded, smiled encouragingly but couldn't help but tilt their head as they tried to place his face. Said face dropped, and he forced the last part out with some effort.

"I'm….the mascot."

 **Roy Watson: Ultimate Mascot: Student Council**

Yes, that was where they recognized him from! The advertisements for the Academy tended to focus around the academic pursuits, the future job offers that would be received….and then there was the moments where a cross between a purple teddy bear and a Tellytubby wandered into frame to present documents in a faux-graduation ceremony.

Pat wouldn't have put Roy to be one of those. He was tall, taller than Alphonse, but about the normal height for an student. His face, pale and spotty, occasionally twitched with a nervous spasm, and his hands went to his straw coloured hair as if trying to pull it out. His outfit was impeccable, however, a white shirt neatly ironed with a purple waistcoat over it, and standard issue Prosperity trousers and shoes, grey and bland.

"Oh…Oh, right!" Pat tried to change the subject, sensing perhaps a feeling of embarrassment. "It's nice to m-meet you."

"y-Yeah, same, Mr…Miss, um…" He looked horrified, and Pat was quick to reassure him.

"If you have to call me anything, just call me Mx Elton."

"Right…right! Er, apologies, should be used to it by now. I hope you enjoy working here, Mx Elton."

"Much obliged. It's already-" Pat wasn't sure what the end of that sentence was. Quite interesting? Well it was that. Quite confusing? Again, certainly something that was a thing they felt. But luckily they didn't need to finish it, as an interruption suddenly presented itself.

Roy was barged aside, and before they could finish the sentence, a pair of hands shot within grabbing distance of their ribs. "Come on, come!" said the barger. "Hands up!"

Pat looked to Al and Roy, worried that they were either about to be thrown across the room or tickled. The two of them looked at each other, then at them and shrugged helplessly. Doing as the whirlwind insisted, Pat raised their arms up to the sky, and was subject to an incredibly rough, though mercifully quick, patting down and rifling of their pockets.

"So it appears you're lacking in contraband! Security's paramount here!" The woman looked Pat up and down, and as if recalling that this was not perhaps the most natural introduction between colleagues, stuck out a hand sharply "…Judy Huston."

 **Judy Huston: Ultimate Bouncer: Security**

 _Well, I'd better shake her hand. She might take mine off if I don't._

One quick shake later, Judy practically jumped back, and Pat got a better look at her. She was a decently sized woman in terms of height She was not the tallest, that honour went to the rather ramrod straight man currently glaring at a whiteboard, but she was close enough. Her blonde hair, cut off rather sharply into a makeshift pixie cut, didn't hide the slight detached expression on her face, or in her grey eyes.

About thirty, she looked to be one of the fittest members of the congregation, muscles across her arms and legs a-plenty, hidden underneath a white shirt and navy-blue joggers. It occurred to Pat that there appeared to be a little mud on her trainers, but Judy cared not one jot, given her look.

From what little they could recall about Judy, she had been with the school for a good ten years, after having been commended for her work as a prison guard. There had been those who had tried to smuggle things in and out of the school, and those people were now probably in hospital and/or jail thanks to her.

So as Judy looked at her, they felt inclined to say something, anything, just to break the awkward silence. "So…is it a hard job?"

"A hard job." Judy smirked, and then didn't. "Three hundred plus students. All of these teachers, with all their little quirks and habits and styles. Potential spies and troublemakers and _journalists_ -" She spat this last word "-trying to find out how this all works. Yes. It is a hard job."

Pat tried not to let the feeling of the ground swallowing them up get to them. It didn't quite work.

"Judy!" A rather gentle voice, though with the hint of the scold in it, cut through. Judy gave Pat a look and then stormed back over towards the older woman, who looked at her with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

Pat's attention was suddenly taken by another woman, who offered a huge grin. "My dear, hello! Chelsea Irving, history, but you can probably guess that from the period costume! Hee!"

 **Chelsea Irving: Ultimate Historian: History**

"Oh, uh, hello!" Pat swallowed, and tried to push that feeling of awkwardness away. Chelsea's hair, cut into a bob style, was chocolate brown, a rather bright and almost unrealistic colour. She wore a pair of wire-spectacles that blocked a pair of blue eyes which appeared to blink quite a bit.

Her outfit seemed…anachronistic, to suit her talent Pat supposed. A bottle green dress, the kind that you might see in a Victorian period drama or one of those old fashioned ballroom scenes, that got fluffier and fluffier as it went down. As she moved about, Pat caught a glimpse of trainers underneath the dress. She muttered a curse in what appeared to Welsh as she shook Pat's hand.

"Don't mind Judy." She murmured softly. "She's just, ah, how do you put it…easily stressed? She's really dedicated to her job."

"Y-Yeah, I can tell." Pat smiled awkwardly. "It's okay, it was a stupid question. It's Prosperity after all. I-It'd be stranger if it weren't protected."

"No excuse to be rude, which she most definitely was!"

"I can hear you know!" shouted Judy.

"Why do you think I'm saying these things?!" Chelsea stuck her tongue out and on reflex, Pat snorted.

Chelsea was famous for her writing career, several of her more in-depth books were the recommended texts for other schools across the country, and indeed, on a global scale. As for teaching, she was most famous for how much she threw herself into every new subject, often times taking the students outside of Prosperity in an attempt to show them the truth of what it was they were studying.

Chelsea's smile widened and turned back. "Anyway, just relax, it's all fine." She gestured down in a fluster. "Really wish the headmaster'd let me change into something more practical. This was supposed to be demonstrating a point to my class, but now it's getting a bit hot in here. If HALLIE will let me, I do believe I should check whether the air conditioning is working! If you do not mind, of course!" She looked a little embarrassed. "I talk a lot, but if there's anything I can help you with, well, feel free to talk when it's quieter?"

"Oh, uh, sure! Sure. That sounds great."

Chelsea smiled, and patted Pat on the shoulder, before moving off to talk to the two who had been glowering at Al a few moments ago.

That, then, put paid to the group of people that had been closest to them Now, time to go forth and greet the day with open arms!

First though, a snack. Their stomach was rumbling something fierce.

Moving forward, Pat tried to ignore the glances thrown their way, and made their way towards a large vending machine. They had their hands in pocket, ready to get some money out for it, when they realized to their embarrassment that their wallet was clearly amongst the variety of stuff packed into one of their bags.

Pat thought about asking, but then stopped themselves. Was that too much of a request for a first time? Was that not 'how it was done' in Prosperity?

"No need to fret!" A hearty laugh made them jump and spin around. "You haven't eaten? Here you are!" The figure handed her a large cream bun, and with a nod, tipped his chef-like hat "Home Economics, Martin Starr, at your service!"

 **Martin Starr: Ultimate Baker: Home Economics**

"Thank you!" Gratitude rushed through Pat's head, memories of the incredibly awkward mistakes that had occurred when they had 'overstepped' their mark rushing through their head. The nervousness had dissipated a little with their interactions with Chelsea, and with this act of kindness, the ice broke a little more. She knew of Martin (Who didn't?) more from his family's bakery than anything else. The Starr's were known for their mixture of quantity and quality, with Martin bucking the trend by being the first baker to not take over the running of said shop, instead returning to Prosperity after his school-life was complete.

Martin was probably the third tallest, behind the man with the ramrod back and Judy, with almost currant like eyes that looked on in intrigue at her, and a crop of thick red hair that seemed to battle the seams of the hat. His arms, legs and entire body were quite rotund, too, though not unhealthily so. He was dressed, somewhat haphazardly, in a yellow striped shirt and brown trousers, hidden underneath a thick, red apron.

"Hmm…you've not been eating much recently?" Martin held his chin thoughtfully.

"Uh, no?" Pat frowned. How did...and then they smiled. "I guess it's part and parcel of being a baker? Knowing how other people eat?"

"You pick up a few things about people's habits!" He clapped a large hand on their shoulder. "Still, I imagine that we can get you fattened up! You'll need your strength to be dealing with these Ultimates, let me tell you that! And that's just the students you have to worry about!"

"God, you missed your calling. Should have been a cannibal, the way you talk about them like that."

"Ah, Jamie!" With a twinkle in his eyes, Martin raised a hand to his chest. "You cut me to the quick with your harsh words!"

"Whatever." In a bored, slightly monotone voice, the girl waved a hand rather disingenuously. "Jamie Pritchard, Dance. Great to see you, I guess, go us. Whoooo."

 **Jamie Pritchard: Ultimate Breakdancer: Dance**

"Being unfriendly again, Jamie." Martin gave her a slightly annoyed look, which still came across as 90% more cheerful than most people's annoyed looks. "We're all tired-"

"Yeah? Have you got a whole troupe of dancers coming in tomorrow? It's going to be fine for the first ten minutes, and then it's all going to get very, very cutthroat indeed. Two hours with them and you'll be crying for the army. At least they'll give you a decent pension when you're done with it" Jamie sighed, and grasped a large mug of coffee as if it were a lifeline. "Was waiting until the middle of the day really that hard for our headmaster?"

"I'm sorry-" Pat began, but Jamie waved it off.

"Never mind, it's not on you, is it?"

Jamie was fairly lanky, though with her legs toned clearly from a great deal of work. She was dressed so casually that one might have mistaken her for a hitchhiker who had somehow stumbled into the school by accident. She wore a grey hoodie with the Prosperity Logo hastily etched on, and navy blue jeans, coupled with a pair of blue and white trainers. Her blue hair verged on the grey, as did her eyes, and the slightly dull way her lips rested on her face.

It was odd, thought Pat, how different people were off-stage, as it was. They had once gone to a concert where Jamie had been one of a troupe of dangers. The others had been good, sure, but there had been something about Jamie that had really captivated the crowd.

"Give her a few mouthfuls of caffeine." Martin stage whispered to Pat "And she'll be….marginally more energetic."

"Nuh uh, don't go putting words in my mouth."

"…I wasn't." Martin gave Pat a mock-weary look. "Ride over must have been tough. The waves aren't exactly welcoming-" He paused, glanced over her shoulder and let out a soft sound that might have been a groan. "Sorry."

"What?"

"You've, er, got an English teacher bearing down on you. Might want to DUCK!" Pat turned backwards, and heard the distinct sound of Martin and Jamie stumbling backwards in order to get away.

 _Huh, well what's wrong with-Oh no._

A hand grasped Pat's and shook it, vigorously, as a wild, tremulous voice uttered "As a scribe of the truth, I, William Collins, shall inscribe your name upon the papyrus of history!"

 **William Collins: Ultimate Scholar: English**

Several thoughts went through Pat's head at that moment. Mostly variations on a general theme: _What? What even?_

William Collins looked as though he had been pulled out a long forgotten cupboard. Though he could no older than thirty five, his hair appeared to be reaching dangerously long lengths, wispy brown hair that seemed very close to grey. His clothes looked just as worn out. Over his dark green suit, with pink tie and white shirt, he wore brown robes that held more than a few areas where it had been patched up. His hand felt like paper, very dry.

His eyes were the most striking part, though. Bright blue, and almost painfully sharp.

"A-Ah. Hello, Mr Collins…y-you'd be-"

"The English teacher?" The old woman stood up and took hold, gently but firmly, of William's shoulder. "Yes, he is. Forgive him, he's a bit…stressed right now."

"Bah!" William's face broke into a slightly strained, yet strangely genuine smile. "Indeed? …Am I being a bit…. much as you humans put it?"

"Just a lil." The slight southern drawl was not what Pat had expected, nor the glint of something in the old woman's eye "Pleasure, I'm sure, darling. Lauren Havisham, Drama."

 **Laura Havisham: Ultimate Thespian: Drama**

"Y-Yes, lovely to meet you!" Pat swallowed. Laura Havisham was incredibly well known in the theatre circles, there'd been several times where she'd been interviewed and had run rings around the reporters sent to try and get a rise out of her. She was, however, far more well known for a one year appearance on a soap opera known as CommonFolk that had still held records for length of time on air, and her appearance in particular had become part of popular culture.

Looking at her now, they were well aware of how quickly the old woman was taking her in. Pat therefore decided against the repetition of any catchphrases that Laura had had on that show, for fear that they might be dealing with another Judy.

Laura was in her late fifties to early sixties, a face lined with wrinkles yet still with the glimmer of beauty about it. Her eyes, hidden behind a dark pair of sunglasses, gave away only the slightest hint of brown as her head moved up and down. Her hair, though grey now, clearly must have once been a bright shade of blonde, if the faint hints of it still remaining could be believed.

"Willie here-" She slung her arm over his shoulder in a friendly manner "-has a tendency to let the words get the better of the rest of him, to the expense of all other things, such as basic politeness. He's used to giving lectures by this point, set in his ways as he is, and restraint is something that works perfectly fine in THAT theatre, and less so in this theatre that we call normal everyday life." She winked at him. "Wouldn't have him any other way though?"

"Bah! I confess, I confess, tis true, as the source of truth in a lying world, I cannot prevent myself from speaking out of turn no matter whom it may offend, though…I apologize if it, indeed, offended you." This last part he said in a far grumpier manner, almost like it had been rehearsed.

"O-Oh, no problem." Pat laughed, more out of desperation than anything. Was that normal, they wondered, to be constantly on the verge of breaking down into either mad laughter or soul crushing terror? Absentmindedly they thought of the small medicine bottle in their bag. If only Hallie could let them have it.

"And sadly." Laura whispered, and Pat snapped back to the present. "We should probably get your introduction to Peter over and done with. He's Maths, and he's…well, many things. Difficult is one of them."

"Oh really?" came the icy cold response. "Ye do like to stir the pot when it comes ta me." Turning around, Pat stifled an gulp, as the man with the ramrod back moved forward. He looked Pat up and down with a cold, logical eye, in great depth. She got a good eyeful of him. Navy suit, gold trimming, with a pair of grey gloves marked with chalk on his hands. Grey eyes and jet black hair, and a face permanently set to scowl.

Finally, he spoke, somewhat frostily. "Supply teacher? Not that I'll be seeing much of ye, but it's Peter Hammond, Maths."

 **Peter Hammond: Ultimate Theoretician: Maths**

"Oh, it's lovely to-"

"Yes, sure it is, ye'll be satisfied with that for now? I've got papers ta mark and unlike some people, we dinnae get a break."

"Rude."

It slipped out before they could stop themselves, and as Al let out an low whistle of amusement, Pat wondered if anyone else could feel the ground licking it's lips in anticipation of it's next meal. The cantina suddenly felt very, very warm indeed, and it was a rather hard battle to keep their legs still standing.

Peter stared straight through them, then with a brusque "We're done here" stormed forward and out of the door. There was a ruckus outside as he left, but Pat was a little too distracted by the distinctive cackle of William and the smirk of Laura.

"Not bad, not bad." She said, approvingly. "Not many people who can flummox that guy on their first day."

Chelsea glanced at the three of them. "So, erm….what did I miss?"

"The annual Peter Hammond Humiliation, nothing important."

"Oh, that is a pity! Is Mr Hammond all right?" It was hard to miss the decrease in legitimate concern when Chelsea talked about him. Not helped of course, by the way she was clearly trying to hide a little grin.

"He will be!"

HALLIE's voice suddenly chimed out. "According to the headmaster, the rest of the staff are gathered in the staff room. If you would be as kind as to follow me, we can continue the introductions there!"

"Thank goodness!" Chelsea sighed, tension leaving from her shoulders. "Perhaps we'll be able to get a proper brew going, not whatever that muck is in there!" She glanced around. "The cafeteria staff have gone home, yes?"

"Don't worry." Al rolled his eyes good humouredly, and checked his phone. "Even if they were hear, I doubt they would, ah, disagree with your choice of words." He patted Roy on the back. "Come on Watson, sooner we're done, sooner you can go off to sleep."

"R-Right."

Everyone made their way out, though Pat stayed behind for a moment. They weren't sure why, but their chest felt a little tight. They took a few breathes, grabbed hold of the table for a moment to steady themselves, and then glanced around once more.

"So, weary traveller, what make you of this, our cast of bizarre masters of crafts?" William asked, eyebrow raised.

 _Bloody hell, maybe put a bell on him?_

"They are...uh, very interesting! And nice, most of them."

William suddenly looked self-conscious. "You do not find them odd? I do, and that says a lot coming from such a personage as I." He paused, licked his lips and then muttered something like "Something feels off."

"What was that?"

William snapped back. "Bah, twas nothing!"

Pat hesitated, and then decided to speak. "W-Well, if I am honest, it's...it's all weird. I don't quite know what to make of most of them, but that's how it usually is when you...you start somewhere new, right?"

"I would not know. I have...been here for what feels like forever." Perhaps sensing a question at this comment, William deflected it. "Of course, as the scholar Mr Dodgeson once said, we are all a little mad here, are we not?"

"...Y-Yeah. And the others, are they...just as crazy?"

"Oh no!"

Pat smiled.

"They might be slightly worse."

"Oh." Pat squeaked. "Right."

William offered a weary, though not cruel smile. "Come then. After yourself!"

Pat nodded gratefully, though with a clear amount of trepidation clear in the gesture itself, it might have been hard to notice. Al had waited for them, and with a slow wave, directed them through a maze of corridors, each one looking clean as a whistle, before stopping in front of another pair of double doors, these ones made of oak. He patted Pat on the back.

 _Ah well. Once more unto the breach._

And Pat entered the staff room.

* * *

 _And that's about it for the first half of the cast list. Next time, we meet the rest, including a proper introduction to Al's siblings! Hope this was okay, I am open to feedback (If my writing style is a bit different, it's only because this is the first time I am trying a relatively straight story and some of my big influences are Pratchett and Adams) and constructive criticism, hope you enjoyed and see you next time!_


	3. Prologue-Part 1B

_**TheRoseShadow21:** Oh wow, high praise indeed! I was a little worried that Pat would come off a bit bland and typical of other stories (There are plenty of stories that have a shy/awkward protag, written by far better writers than me) but I figured that it made sense for them considering their talent and what it is they are walking into. I make no pretence of it, I mostly wanted to just have three siblings in this for a reason that should be very obvious when you find out what their talents are. XD. William seems popular, and I can see why, he is the character I enjoyed writing most. I have fonder memories of the DR3 anime than most, but one thing I did find a little aggravating was that for the first time in Future Arc, you had a whole spread of characters of differing ages and personalities and barely anything was done with most of them, especially considering what we learn about the academy in SDR2 and ESPECIALLY ADG, there could have been a lot more done with that (Looking at you, Miaya!) So hopefully you get that sense here, there is a lot to unpack. Thank you very much for the kind words!_

 _ **ThePLOTHand:** Oh wow, this is great! Most of these really suit the characters as I presented them thus far (I say most, because the Harvest December tracks are rather hard to find at present so I can't exactly make a judgement on those), and I am very curious to see what you will come up with for the last lot. Also, yes, thank you for noticing that, I quite heavily redid the first part of the prologue, but the 'she' bits were left in despite my best efforts. Apologies, but it has been edited and hopefully it won't happen again! Though if it does, feel free to point it out. William is a lot of fun to write, but then I suppose one could say that about most of the more overtly quirky characters of the series (I know that whenever I've practised writing Gundam, I've had a lot of fun with it). And HALLIE's exact purpose will be explored more in the final part of the Prologue, so I will answer that question when we get to it, if you don't mind. Thanks for reading!_

 _So here we are once more! The last ten of our participants introduced here, and while I had originally planned to end with the reveal of the mascots for this fanfiction, I've decided to hold that off for the last part of the prologue, cause I just think it works better. That way, not too much in the way of overwhelming details. With that in mind, let's get under way!_

* * *

On later reflection, the staff room was warm, cosy, everything that the reception area wasn't. The red plush chairs looked firm, but not to the point of being uninviting. Along the right hand side of the room, the one that was accessible, was a series of white cabinets and cupboards, a bit like a kitchen. And also like a kitchen, there were various apparatus resting on the sideboard, a kettle gently simmering, a state of the art microwave, a toaster that seemed to be powering down and so on. Already making themselves at home, Jamie and Chelsea were preparing some more tea.

"Come come!" William, suddenly behind Pat once again, patted their back. "Rest your weary feet, chair's fine. No need to stand on ceremony."

Gratefully, Pat sat down and nearly gasped in delight at how comfortable the chair was. A sudden rush of nostalgia hit them, memories of happier days in make-up chairs with their sister, and they tried very hard to fight the feelings of homesickness that had, already, begun to sweep over them. _Get a grip. You have been here for literally...I don't know, an hour? Not even that! You can't show any weakness here, they'll walk all over you! Sides, this is what you wanted._

This didn't quite make them feel better.

A slight cough interrupted their recollections. With a slight self-deprecating nod, the bespectacled woman offered them a flask of tea. "I can imagine that you're a bit overwhelmed by it all. The names and such. I work here and I still need a flowchart to work it all out." She offered an apologetic glance. "We spoke on the phone? Aisha Grayson, Reception."

 **Aisha Grayson: Ultimate Secretary: Reception**

"Oh…hi…and thanks!" Pat dutifully took the tea, and realising that they should really take advantage of all the free stuff, finished off the pastry that Martin gave her before taking a sip of it. "This is good stuff. Thanks."

Aisha curtsied. She was dressed fairly modestly, a red sweater and a light brown plaited skirt, with black heels completing the get up. She wiped her lime coloured hair aside. "Oh, er, I feel I must apologise profusely!" She held a hand to her chest and looked to be on the verge of tearing up in an almost ridiculously cartoony way. "I was busy making sure that no one was trying to hide in their classrooms from you, I should have probably come out and greeted you personally! HALLIE is good, bless her, but at the same time...she is just a machine, and it can be a bit impersonal! And-And I was really hysterical on the phone, you must have thought us all mad!"

"It's fine! It's fine!" Pat tried to laugh, but it didn't quite come out as one. Truth be told, they were rather surprised. There had been some information on the receptionist that they had looked up with all the phone calls and letters (Professional, hard-working, diligent, friendly) but some of it hadn't quite gelled with the frantic conversations they had had. So to receive an apology, not to mention such a gushing one off the bat, was odd.

 _There's an Ultimate apologising to me? Huh...not many egos here, clearly. Never expected it would be like this._

"OI! NEWBIE!"

 _Now that is a more bog-standard reaction._

A rather muscular looking man strode forward, stepping over the seats in a single bound. He looked down at Pat and gave a smirk that he clearly thought was charismatic and friendly. It was not.

"You're a little shabby looking, but I've seen fucking worse, let me tell you that now. Wanye Pryce, PE! Course you may know me from a variety of other things, give you a free autograph now if you want!"

 **Wayne Pryce: Ultimate Footballer: Physical Education**

 _Hmm, how to respond to this? And not immediately piss off the altar to masculinity in front of me?_

Wanye was probably the person most famous to a general audience. Unlike the others, he frequently made the tabloids and even some of the more supposedly respectable papers due to his skills with a football, his intense dedication and the fact that he fulfilled a lot of negative stereotypes about footballers off the pitch. He was quite recognisable, a thin layer of brown hair covering his head and blue eyes that stared deep even from a picture. Rumours had mostly been the substance of these stories, but they were rumours that did not particularly strike people as being far off the truth of the matter.

He looked as though he had just stepped from one of the big games he was famous for, a yellow jersey with the word 'Barrowsfield' emblazoned on it in a white, blocky font, a few others symbols of companies that ranged from recognisable to almost iconic on them. His navy blue shorts didn't quite cover his long, rather battered looking legs, and given his pose, that was probably intentional. As too was the fact that he had one foot resting on the armrest, as if striding atop a grand mountain. All that was missing was the cawing of an eagle in the background.

"Get your foot off of the chair." A rather sedate and familiar voice said. "I'm sure they really don't want to find out the intimate details of what's in your pants just yet."

 _Oh, Al's sister. Well, that's good, I guess. I really don't want to have to argue with this...person._

"Ahhhh, you're a fucking laugh, aren't you?!" Wayne scratched his cheek. "Tell you what though, pet, there's something weird going on outside."

"Call me pet once more and you'll find out what it's like to have a heel in your sack."

"Oh, y-yeah? Outside?"" Pat wondered if this was the right thing to do, or if they were opening up a fresh can of worms. But all the talk of Wayne's pants were getting to them a little bit, and anything to get back on track.

"Yeah, fresh meat, weird stuff. There's some daft shit going on with the student houses, bunch of Roidy's guards gathered around there. Maybe we should send fucking Moore off, it's late and he's got a lesson with me tomorrow." Price glanced at Roy, who looked as though he'd rather take the lesson with the kettle instead. "He's going to blown out as it is, really don't want to give him any excuse for it!"

Judy muttered something under her breath. Pat wasn't close enough to hear it, but something about glass houses caught their ear. Wayne shot her a glance, a strange one mixed between amused and annoyed.

"Would you mind showing me, Mr Pryce?" Aisha piped up, a look on her face that screamed 'I'm going to regret this' as she did so. Instantly, Wayne turned towards her and smiled, all syrupy sweet.

"Course, darling. Anyone outside?"

"Only Mr Hammond."

"Bloody Scots! I'll drag him back." He barely glanced at Pat, waving at them dismissively, but he winked somewhat theatrically to the woman, who scoffed. As they headed off, Aisha turned back and winked, before giving full attention to Wayne bragging. "Now, I ever tell you about the time that I scored a hat trick, by myself, at the World Cup? I have? Well, you'll be able to correct me, won't you!"

"Patience of a saint, that one!" With a grimace in the direction of Al, the woman bowed and then grasped Pat's hand in a tight embrace "At last, got a moment to myself. Nadia Bowman, Physics. Don't listen to Al, I don't bite. Much."

 **Nadia Bowman: Ultimate Rocket Scientist: Physics**

Pat was just about to say something in return (Something like "Oh, I'm sure he wasn't insulting you" or something else equally as trite) when a loud, snickering laugh echoed around their ear. "Hm-hm-hm-hm! And I am Robert Bowman, brother, doctor, Biology teacher and all around decent bloke!"

 **Robert Bowman: Ultimate Surgeon: Biology**

 _What? What the hell? That laugh..._

"Robert, remember that talk we had about 'personal space' and 'boundaries' that I keep having to bring up?"

"No." Robert, looking remarkably more cheerful, impressively managed to sound like a little kid with the voice of a twenty five year old. "Don't remember it."

"Well we had it, so how about you…back off a little?" Nadia shot them a sympathetic glance. "He's not good with new people."

"I am too!"

"So…um, he's a doctor?" Pat said those words, but what they really meant was ' _This_ is your Doctor?'

Nadia nodded, an odd expression upon her face. "For all our sins."

"Of which there are many!" Robert giggled, a slight high-pitched cackle.

The two of them were about the same height, though Robert was perhaps a little taller if only thanks to the large clump of uncombed, dyed purple hair on his person. They were, however, like chalk and cheese when standing together.

Robert was gangly, in that awkward area between average sized and stick thin. His arms and legs were equally as awkwardly sized, covered by a peach coloured, button shirt and a grey labcoat over that, which all looked like it was practically hanging off of him. His bottom half appeared to be actual surgeon slacks, sterile green trousers and rather uncomfortable looking shoes. As he turned his head on his side, he stared at Pat through yellow Lennon-like specs, his pale skin almost sparkling like a crappy young adult novel's take on a vampire.

Nadia, on the other hand, had little in common with either of her brothers. She was Indian, with a mop of dark red hair and brown eyes. Like her brothers, she was wearing a lab-coat also, though this one appeared to be shorter, going only to just below her waist. She wore a ridiculously glittery blue sweater, and blue-green joggers, with similar shoes to her brother's. Around her wrist was a small charm, red and yellow in colour, though looking at it in any depth was impossible at this time.

"O-Oh, so the three of you work here?"

"Yes." Nadia smirked. It wasn't a happy one. "The three sciences. It's just as fun as you'd think it would be. If not moreso." She shook her head. "Ah hell, you've probably already been scared off from meeting this group of….well-"

"Oddballs! Weirdos! Nutjobs!" Robert threw out, all with a cheery smirk.

"U-Uh, I w-w-wouldn't go that far. I've met weirder." Pat smiled, though they could not help but add mentally to that: _Not many, though._

"…..Yeah." Nadia gave them a quick look, so quick that they couldn't quite register, before glancing back to Al. "Well, anyway, no offence, but I'd be surprised if you lasted long. Lot of people can't."

"…Well I'll just have to prove you wrong!" Pat paused. _Ohhh, I've just backed myself into a corner here._

"Oooooh, fancy! Last person who said that was a real goer, too….left here in a straitjacket, or so I was told." The surgeon sneered and then let loose a quieter, if still privately amused, laugh.

"Stop trying to scare them off!" Al called from across the room, for the first time letting a note of annoyance creep through.

"Make me!" Robert clicked his tongue. "Oh, might as well introduce to you to the potential fourth Bowman!"

"Please don't call her that…"

"Theresa! Come on, meet the new person!"

A woman, looking to be maybe a little younger than the siblings, stumbled over in heels that were a little too high for her and glanced at Pat, awkwardly. She offered a slight smile towards Robert, who clamped a friendly arm around her shoulders.

"This is Theresa Woodward! She's the Religious Education teach, and she is probably the smartest person in the room!"

 **Theresa Woodward: Ultimate Philosopher: Religious Education**

Immediately, the entire room stopped their conversations and turned towards Robert, audibly shouting that he was wrong, so wrong, the wrongness of his statement could not be understated. He snickered, and Nadia punched his shoulder, trying to hide a slightly amused smirk.

Theresa, by contrast, looked more than a little lost. She stuck her hand out and Pat shook it. They had to stop themselves from starting, so cold was her hand to the touch. The second the handshake was over, Theresa's hand retreated into her sleeves.

Theresa was pale. Ridiculously so. Perhaps that had been what had attracted Robert to her in the first place, but if possible she was even paler. Her eyes were wide, a pale blue colour, and her hair, blonde with a few pink highlights coming through, was arranged in a pixie cut. White was the prevailing theme of her clothing, a white hoodie that seemed far too big for her small frame and white leggings, hidden under a long grey skirt.

"Ah, hello! It's nice to meet you."

Theresa nodded, shyly, a chain with a crucifix on it bouncing up and down as she did so. She pointed to her throat, then to her mouth, then shook her head.

"You…can't speak?"

A nod.

 _A philosopher who can't speak? No wonder that Aisha was so panicked on the phone._

Robert coughed. "She can usually, and how, it's just that her vocal chords need time to recover from a rather important operation. I imagine your first job will be covering her very fun lectures!" He patted her on the back, a little vigorously, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Oh, er, in that case, I'll check with you about timetables and…and what you've been doing?"

Theresa considered this, then gave a thumbs up.

Nadia was watching this with yet another one of those curious expressions. She shook herself. "Oh, and from the one who can't speak to the one who can't shut the hell up!"

"That could be any one of these people and you know it!" Robert protested, lightly.

Another woman had moved forward, 'accidentally' shoving Nadia out of the way to grab Pat's hand.

With every word, the woman offered a sharp pose and a quick click of the tongue, all to a cheery smile. "Salut! ¡Hola! Salve! And hullo! Jean Atois, teacher of all foreign languages! Charmed, I am sure!"

 **Jean Atois: Ultimate Linguist: Languages**

Jean was wearing, of all things, a floral yukuta. The main colour was yellow, with the flowers being red, orange, gold, purple and other such colours. Underneath that, the angle of which the yukuta had been positioned (Almost deliberately, Pat was sure) showed a dark green tank top and a smaller dark red miniskirt. Her ginger hair looked a little slapdash, as though it had only just been put into place, and her eyes still held the faint hint of sleep. It made for quite the contrast with her speech and upbeat introduction.

Pat's head was getting a little light with the amount of introductions they had made, but they pressed on. "Oh! Hello?"

"Encantado, I am sure!" Her eyes alighted on Pat's attire. "I like the look, muy fantastico!"

Pat blushed. They count the number of times someone had said something non-judgemental about how they dressed on one hand."Th-thanks. L-Lovely to meet you! How many languages can you speak?"

Jean smirked in a smug manner. "At least fifteen. Depends how good I'm feeling!" She suddenly laser focused in on Pat. "And you? How many languages do you speak?"

Pat, put on the spot, decided to go with a technically true answer. "….Not that many."

"Ah." It was as if someone had Then we will not be interacting much. Goodbye."

And with that, she left.

"Ooooh, someone's in a good mood today! Must have been caught mid-thrust, if you catch what I-"

"Robert." Nadia sounded weary, yet again. Her brother raised up his hands and shut up. "She's just got back from Japan, probably looking for a break. Or something. Or maybe she's just being a bitch." She sighed. "Look, if I've got this right, there are three people left, Elton. How about we leave you to it?"

"Yeah, it's getting boring anyway." Robert practically dragged Nadia off. "See ya later!"

Theresa paused, then mouthed "Nice to meet you", and then followed after them.

 _Oh...uh, sure. Okay. Bye then._

Pat was alone. But not for long.

"Come come, Barty, no need to get antsy."

"E-E-Easy for you to say! I was in the middle of something important!"

"As was I! Flipping cheek of our headmaster. Still-sugar?"

"No thanks."

"Still, we best introduce ourselves to them. Get it over with for all of our sakes."

So saying, the speakers headed over to join Pat. _Oh my- What even is that man wearing?_

The slightly flamboyant figure they were thinking of took a bow and snapped their fingers in faux-delight "Sam Kennedy, Art! They/them pronouns, got to get that out of the way! Windbitten, weary, with a spark of optimism left!"

 **Sam Kennedy: Ultimate Painter: Art**

Eccentric appeared to be the key word for Sam, who looked like a clown car given human form. The top half of their face was covered with a faux-marble, white mask. The side of their face showing was rather drawn, bony, with eyes containing burning yellow contacts in them. His hair, short and improperly cut, was a deep blue with hints of green speckled throughout. A large beauty mark, looking like a splotch of paint against a white canvas, broke up the pale white skin. As for their clothes, they appeared to be wearing a purple, bordering on pink, suit over a orange waistcoat and white shirt. They was also, for some reason, barefoot.

Kennedy was a name that Pat recognised from some of the art discussions, as a result of making a series of rather bizarre, trippy drawings, like Picasso on coke with the backgrounds of Yellow Submarine, as one particular critic had described it.

Besides them, the other figure looked positively normal. Then again, so would nearly anyone else. The contrast between the somewhat stuffy tone of his voice and the stammer was hard to miss. "Ah, you're h-h-here! You took your time…Music. Bartholomew Stansfeld!"

 **Bartholomew Stansfield: Ultimate Conductor: Music**

The second these words were out of his mouth, he closed his mouth like a steel trap, as if afraid that if he kept it open for any longer, something might get out and run rampant.

"Barty here-" murmured Sam "-is what call a bit of a introvert. Trust me, you'll get used to his ways. Telling you this now to avoid any problems."

"I c-can speak, you know!" protested Bartholomew.

"But you didn't. So I did it for you." Sam's lips quirked slightly, and then returned to their normal position.

 _Well that's helpful to know. Glad I'm not the only one currently having a really awkward time with all this._

Barty looked as if he was in great pain. There was a significant amount of white makeup upon his face, like a run of the mill Georgian aristocrat. Similar to that was his clothing, of a similar period. On his head, he wore a white wig that seemed to hide curly, almost colourless brown hair. His shirt was certainly frilly enough to be of that period, as was the off-brand gold brocade waistcoat, though the bottle green britches, and the pair of riding boots did offset the image quite a bit.

"Oh, I went to one of your concerts!" Pat smiled, recalling. "At Cardiff, you played most of the Odes to the Hammer! It was wonderful!"

No one could be sure, but one could almost say that Barty blushed underneath the makeup. "I…That is….it is gratifying to meet a fan, I am sure!" He coughed. "Not that I am un-used to such a f-f-feeling of course!" He thought. "The…O2 arena, yes?"

"That's it! It was amazing!"

"I'm thinking...two years? August. ...Yes, it was a good reception, befitting such a maestro like myself."

Sam, listening to this with dwindling interest, suddenly started. "Hang about. I think we're starting!" With one last nod to Pat, they steered Barty towards one of the seats.

"Y-You're not jealous, are you?"

"Me?! Pah! As if!"

 _Oh so they're a thing. Well that's nice._

Peter had been practically marched back into the room, scowling and looking grimly down at the floor. Seconds later, Aisha and Wayne came back, the latter looking annoyed and the former with an attitude of reluctance. Everyone began to gather around, taking seats and looking impatiently at HALLIE, who was tilting her head in a rather bizarre fashion.

Pat stayed where they were, looking anxiously around. They glanced down at their outfit, was it a bit unprofessional of them to come like this?

"It's all right." A slight, lilting Irish accent cut through her thoughts. "As I'm sure you've noticed, none of us are dressed as, quote, normal people, unquote."

The last teacher sat besides her. A tiny smile graced the face of the androgynous figure, before he waved in a fairly disconnected way. "You are not too tired, I hope? Welcome to the rest of your life. Taylor Livingstone, Media Studies...oh, and a few films too. But you probably don't care!"

 **Taylor Livingstone: Ultimate Auteur: Media Studies**

Taylor looked odd, thought not as bad as Sam or William, and seemed to know and revel in it. His hair was quite unrestrained, though compared to William it was practically neat as two pins, and fiery red in colour. A large scarf drifted around their neck and right arm, over a black leather jacket and practically glowing yellow t-shirt. Jeans that looked as though they had seen military service finished the ensemble off, with black leather boots that looked severely worn and scuffed.

"Oh, thank you?" They wasn't sure if that was a joke, a statement, a sarcastic jab, or what. Meeting so many people had sort of fried Pat's ability to perceive things. They glanced forward, and their eyes alighted on a framed portrait, slightly smudged but still looking relatively well kept. "Is that-?"

"Gordon Flynt. Headmaster. Kennedy painted it, in case you are wondering." He wrapped a hand around his wrist. "Good enough, if you like self-congratulatory pats on the back like he clearly does."

"...Not a fan?"

"A fan. Just not a worshipper." He paused, and then offered up that smile again. "Sorry. First day and you're being lectured at. That sucks."

"Y-You would honestly be surprised how much that's happened already." Pat laughed.

The two of them went quiet for a bit. A conversation rose up among the other teachers, as a sudden rush of the air conditioning swept through the figures all there.

Well, conversation was a soft word for it. Another word for it would be 'argument'.

"So, nothing outside, Wayne?"

"You can stop with the fucking smugness, Rob, it's not a good look."

"The fact that I am currently in a relationship with a really gorgeous AND smart woman, and you are, well, you, suggests otherwise!" crowed Robert. Theresa offered up a rather wider smirk at this.

Laura coughed. "So if you two are done bickering? Nothing outside at all?"

"We saw a few of the guards moving towards Building One, but they were in before we could catch them." Aisha shrugged. "Might just be that they thought they saw something."

"I hope so. Cause if they wake up any of the kids-" Jamie groaned. "Those brats talk back at the best of times."

"Yes, because keeping our mascot up all night is better." Sam muttered.

"I'm fine!" Roy shouted in a rather high pitched voice. "I can...I can take it-" He paused, grabbed for the nearest coffee and began to drink it.

"That's Chelsea's cup! There's a system-"

"Ach, to hell with ye system." Peter glared at Barty. "Bad enough yon flickery woman not letting us prepare for lessons, the boy's going to need to miss a few lessons."

"Yes, as opposed to falling asleep in your lessons for an entirely different reason." Nadia offered a predatory smirk.

"Anyone need another snack?" Martin piped up, perhaps sensing as Pat did that things were about to get rather ugly.

"I'll take one!" Maria offered, though she did shoot a dirty look at Peter before taking the pastry.

"Same. Accursed vending machine has screwed up at this end." remarked Taylor.

"Do, ah, the security guards often make checks around the students at this time of night?" Al asked to Judy. She shook her head. "No, didn't think so, it's a bit...off, isn't it?"

"Yep." Judy bit her lip, and glanced towards the door.

"Because what's happened so far is _biyasa_." Jean hesitated, as she . "Sorry, I did not mean to...slur my words there. It's too late for this stuff"

"Even with my particular...vernacular-" William groaned "-ugh, I would struggle to form words at this late hour." He blinked. "Tiredness does creep up, does it not, like a...predator on it's prey. Oh, see, even I can't make the correct metaphor that I desired."

"Maybe try and get some kip now." Chelsea offered. "I mean, what are the odds-"

But before they could converse further, HALLIE straightened up.

"Our headmaster will make an announcement via the tannoy, and then arrive for personal briefing!" She chirped. This was met with lackluster declarations of "Yay" at best and groans of frustration at worst. At least Pat assumed so, things were getting a little out of focus for them.

With a loud crackle (And a loud "Come on!" from most of hte others), a speaker jolted into life and the warm, deep voice filled the room.

"Greetings all." Mr Flynt said. "Now, to business."

And then everything went black.

...

"-they're not-"

The first sensation to return to Pat was a dull, throbbing sensation in the back of their head.

"-try not to move too much, don't know-"

Wait, who was that speaking? He sounded….far away.

"Hello! Oi, newbie, focus!"

 _Should…probably answer that._

"A-wah?"

"Not quite the reaction I was hoping for, but it'll do!" Robert moved a portable flashlight up and down, right in Pat's eyes. "Hmm…don't seem any more dazed than the rest of us, which is something. Motor reflexes are-" He jabbed their leg.

"Ah!"

"-satisfactory for someone of your age…no fractures, and you're not coughing up blood or mucus or bloody mucus so...yes, you are good to go!"

"Far be it from me to critique your style, Robert, but give them a chance to breathe." Al looked down at them, concern on his face. "Are you okay? You may have, ah, taken a bump, we're not sure yet."

"Yeah, yeah." Pat sat up, feeling their head. "Okay, wait, no, actually..." They swallowed. "Aside from this headache, I'm peachy. …What happened?"

"Fraid we're not sure." Al gestured around. "Um...Headmaster started speaking and then-" He let his hand drop to his side "We all blacked out. Apparently."

Pat hesitated. "Is this…some sort of entrance…thing?"

"What schools have you been in where that's what happens to new teachers?"

"You would honestly be surprised."

"I wish we had rituals as fun as this one!" It was hard to tell how genuine this statement was, considering that Robert was being…well, Robert. "We usually just get really drunk and make the new kids pay for our drinks." He glanced to Theresa, concern flickering across his face for the first time. "You doing okay?"

Theresa nodded, and gestured to Sam and Nadia, both of whom appeared to be locked in conversation. Martin, recognizing that they were being watched, ambled over. "Well, counting Pat, we're twenty in total. HALLIE'S gone AWOL, so we should probably find her ASAP."

"OMG, LOL." Robert grinned. No one else did. "Wordplay, anyone? William, you appreciate it, right?"

"Aaaaargh." groaned William, as he furiously rubbed his head.

"You're no fun."

"We've just been knocked out, our deputy head has gone walkabout and yer being yer usual prattling self!" Peter growled. "Fun is nae something on my mind at the moment."

"Ooooh, touchy."

The reactions varied. Some, like Al, Nadia and Jamie, seemed to be keeping it together well but with clear signs of nerves. Others, like Chelsea and Martin, were keeping themselves occupied with something, though they were less clever about hiding their fear. Some, like Roy, Aisha and Barty, were on the verge of a full blown panic. Not far from her, they could hear Maria muttering furiously. "Can't shut down HALLIE, no one should, why isn't she here, are we under attack, oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh-"

And of course, Robert was looking on with thinly veiled amusement.

Suddenly, Laura's voice rang out, temporarily silencing the teachers. "We'll get nowhere staying here. We need to try and head to…I'm not sure, the headmaster's office? There should be something there that'll tell us what's going on. And there's a bank of security cameras there, if there is a problem, we'll have a good chance there."

A low level of murmuring sprang up, most of it in agreement with the old woman. Wayne, however, piped up. "Those fucking security guards outside, maybe we can get them together and smash some heads if we need to!" He scoffed. "i mean sure, they're probably off their tits with alcohol considering the way they were a moment ago, but still. More the merrier!"

"Crude as it may be, Mr Price does have a point." Taylor remarked. "It would be helpful to have some form of backup in case there's…something wrong."

"There isn't." snapped Judy. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, there's no way a security breach could have happened. I checked the systems before we got here, and all the guards are in their normal places."

"And yet here we are. And there the guards were. It's not fucking rocket science!" Wayne turned and winked at Nadia. "No offence."

"Oh, how original."

"Enough!"

Laura once again got everyone's attention. "There's no point in arguing." She glanced to Judy. "I don't doubt you've done your job as great as always. However, maybe you and a few of the others should head out to make sure things are all right. For the students sake."

Judy opened her mouth, thought for a minute and then reluctantly closed it, nodding. "That's fair." She muttered, grudgingly.

Laura looked around the room. "Right, so if you can take Mr Price, Ms Bowman and…Mx Livingstone, Judy, on the incredibly vague chance that things aren't going well, you should be well protected." She massaged her temples. "If you can make sure the students are okay, that would be great."

Pat spoke up, shakily. "Should…um, should we not try and get the boat back? If something's going on-"

"That's not going to be something we can do." Jamie looked glum, even more so than she had been in her introduction. "The boat has a very specific schedule, it's not going to be back until…I don't know, 4 in the afternoon?"

"Anyone got the time?" Martin remarked, suddenly.

Automatically, some reached into their pockets. And then the cries went up.

"Well, blow me down-"

"Fuck, where did I-"

"It's gone!"

Chelsea swallowed. "That's…that's not a co-incidence, right? I had my phone with me when I came here!"

Robert glanced down at his watch. "It's two in the morning. So about two hours since the head man upstairs started talking?"

There was a long silence, as every possible connotation of what that meant entered into the staff's heads.

"So….the boat's not coming." Pat said, more to confirm than anything.

"Yep." Sam looked at Laura. "Maybe some of us should stay here. In case there's any message that we need to hear?"

"Fair point. I think it best that one group head's for the headmaster's office, the second deals with security and then the third group stays here. So…Pat, are you all right to stay here?"

 _An odd question to be directed towards me, but I guess...well I am a newcomer here, I'd probably just get in the way._ "Perfectly!"

"Good. Mr Moore, can I trust you to keep your cool in this situation? I'm sure Pat won't mind."

"N-No, of course not." Roy looked at Pat, who offered a shaky smile, which at the very least drew a tiny one from him.

"So, let's see….Miss Harding, Miss Waterson, Alphonse and Miss Pritchard , if you could stay as well." Nods went around from these three, even as Robert raised his voice to protest. "Rest of you, with me. Aisha, I'm going to need you to help us get in especially. Think it's time we sorted whatever this mess is out."

"Onwards!" Sam shouted, waving their hand around in a suitably dramatic fashion.

And with that, the room emptied.

"She's quite charismatic." Pat remarked.

"You have no idea." Al chuckled. "But she's been here the longest. Anyone deserves respect, it should be her."

Pat was about to say something else, when they saw Roy shaking a little. Quickly, they whipped off the coat and handed it to him. He took it, gratefully, and mumbled a "Thank you."

"No problem." Pat let out a long breath and then offered what they hoped to be a more confident smile. "We can sort this out, it's going to be fine. It might just be...a power cut or some sort of gas leak. We can deal with it."

"That's the spirit!" Al looked to Maria. "Come on, buck up, we'll get her back online soon."

"Y-Yeah. Course."

"No time like the present!" Chelsea remarked, clapping her hands. "So, might as well give you a tour while you're here!" She smiled, and though it was smaller than it had been in the meeting, it was still cheery as always. "Got any ideas where to start, Pat?"

"….Uh, reception? Maybe we can see if the computer's working."

"I've got a password for it." Roy coughed. "The extra-curricular stuff I've been doing, Aisha showed me how to use it."

"Long as you haven't been altering your test scores." Jamie's lips almost, almost looked like they were trying to smile. "Like someone I know."

"One time." Maria protested. "One time! …It's a good idea, Pat, might as well get our bearings, first." She bit her lip. "I hope HALLIE's okay. She's not supposed to..." She paused. "Sorry."

"It's fine!" Al clicked his tongue. "Let's get this over with."

 _First day and things are already kicking off. This is going to be fun._

* * *

 _Ominous last line is not ominous at all, what are you talking about? XD. But yeah, quick thing, Sam being referred to as a man by Pat as they come to them is just the result of not being explicitly told their gender straight off, not an accidental mistake. I'm fairly certain that's okay, but yes, Taylor will also be referred to by them/they for the future. If I've got that wrong, feel free to tell me. If this seems a little shorter than the previous part, I apologise, but I think this works out rather nicely. Hope you enjoyed, and can't wait to continue this next time!_


	4. Prologue-Part 2

_**ThePLOTHand:** Once more, I have to credit your soundtrack (Though Aisha got left out, but that's fine!). And yes, Theresa is in a bit of a pickle at present. You will learn a lot about HALLIE and what her exact role is in this chapter. I can't comment on that theory, only to say that it's meant to be read as quite sarcastic. Now, whether or not that means your theory is wrong...well, we'll leave that for a later date. :D_

 _This part is a little choppy and may feel a tad too exposition-heavy for you, and that's fine, it's the last part of the prologue and I've got to get a lot of information out there. Hopefully, starting with Chapter One, my writing will improve. Now, let's get down to a few notes regarding how the Chapters are going to work from here on out._

 _-FTE's are going to be used via a method I've seen previously in a few Fanganronpa, not usually used, but I think it works. In order to provide a fair amount of character for each participant, I'm going to try and do at least one FTE for each character in the first chapter. Afterwards, depending on whether or not that is popular, I'll probably pick some out of a randomizer. I would set up a poll, but I...honestly am not sure I wouldn't screw it up. XD._  
 _-Average I'm looking at at present is three to four parts for Daily Life, then one for investigation, and probably two for the trials.  
-Updates will probably be a bit slower after this one, as most of the Prologue was written up before hand and it was a matter of cutting and stretching some bits. Hopefully it won't be too long, but just so you know.  
-I'm considering changing the title, which do you prefer, Danganronpa UK or Fanganronpa UK?_

 _With that in mind, let's get to it!_

* * *

The walk back was mostly silent, with the exception of Chelsea occasionally piping up to make a few remarks that served to break the awkward silence. Roy didn't look nearly at ease as he had earlier, and considering how unhappy he had looked then, that was quite the feat.

"All right." Jamie sighed. "So, if you nerds want to do your tech….thing, I'll see if there's anything in those vending machines."

"O-Okay." Maria took a deep breath. "Okay, so let's try the easiest one first. Y-Your password, Roy?"

"Right." Roy bit his lip.

Pat would have listened more, but Al glancing out of the window caught their attention. Crossing over to join him, they were able to get a clear enough glance back down towards the dock. The water appeared to be lashing at the rock far more fiercely now, and the skies were turning a dismal shade of grey.

"Not exactly Mallory Towers, is it?" Al muttered.

"Oh wow, I have…not thought of those books in a while."

"Heh. Neither have I. Nadia loved that stuff growing up, so she, ah, persuaded us to take a look." Al shrugged. "Could have been worse, I suppose." He glanced back. "How's it going, Jamie?"

"Screw this."

"Ah, that well?" Al rolled his eyes. "Keep telling our mechanic to focus less on the generators, more on the vending machines, but he never listens." He paused. "I'm trying to do the 'small talk' thing, in case you couldn't tell."

"I-It was seamless."

Al sighed. "Not a good first day for you, is it?"

"It…wasn't going to be even before this happened." At that, Al gave them a look, and they offered a weary sigh. "I could have really gone with another few hours of napping before I got on the boat."

"Ah." Al nodded. "It's a tradition for new teachers to be, ah, spirited away in the middle of the night to get to Prosperity. Not a good one in my book, but-" He paused. "Weather's really picking up."

Jamie sidled up, handed Al a carton of orange squash, then dumped a large bag of Mariba sweets in the hands of Pat and downed half a can of fizzy pop before speaking. "Figure they'll find anything?"

"Not at the rate we're g-g-g-going!" Maria called out. "Okay, so, uh, let me take control?"

The other three glanced outside. Al let out a low groan as two figures approached the doors, and stepped aside for them to enter.

"I swear, it'll be fine!" Robert protested. Theresa shot him a glare, and then softening it, headed over to the desk. He glanced to the three of them. "She doesn't want to have to keep miming all night, so she's getting some paper or something, write down basic stuff." He rolled his eyes. "It's annoying, to be sure."

"Anything so far?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Al frowned. "Yes. I would."

Maria stood up and walked over, wringing her hands. "It's, uh, it's a no go with the main computer. I….I can try the IT room upstairs, but I doubt it'll be any b-b-better." She offered a shaky smile. "Um, i-i-if Theresa is having troubles, I'm s-sure there's a speech generating device s-s-somewhere around here, some of the students have to use them."

Robert shrugged. "Sure, I think it'd help. Ta." He coughed. "Found nothing so far, Sam's getting on Laura's nerve, and I suppose moi is not helping matters much either!" He winked. At no one in particular, just a general wink to the assembled masses. "Still, we'll get there, eh, Theresa?"

Theresa pulled a pen out, hurriedly scribbled on the first piece of paper and turned around to reveal the word: YES.

"Capital! We'll leave you to it!"

As they left, Theresa looked back at them, in worry. Then, as if it had never happened, it flickered away and she followed after Robert.

"So...IT room?" Maria asked, quietly.

"Yes, probably should." Chelsea grinned to Roy, and then to Pat. "Fancy checking in on the second and third floor?"

"Ah...sure?"

In silence, they walked back towards the corridor, then turned right. A large flight of stairs divided in two, both sides wide enough for seven to eight students in a row to walk up, lead to the second floor. Jamie moved up the right flight, ignoring Roy's protests that the left side was the one for people going up.

"I don't think she really cares." Al said, watched as Jamie stormed ahead quickly.

"No one does." Roy's sigh was sad "It would be nice if they made an effort to hide it, though."

To please the boy, the others decided to stick to the left side, though in reality it didn't really make much difference. By the time they had gotten up the stairs, Jamie was already heading towards the third flight of stairs. As the others followed her, Chelsea and Pat hung back.

"So-" Chelsea said, as Al and Roy rounded the last corner. "-the first floor is primarily there for reception and the staff room, and supplies and all that." She gestured around. "Up here is where the 'magic' happens, apparently."

Pat laughed. Though the corridor had much of the same decor and style as the reception area, the addition of the lights made it far more appealing and easy on the eye. Comfortable was the word they'd use to describe it.

Pat couldn't really explain why they weren't freaking out as much as they probably should be. Was it because Roy and, to a lesser extent, some of the others were far more worried, and their teacher instinct was kicking in? It was a little disconcerting, but they decided to not dwell upon it. "So, how many times are supply teachers needed?"

Chelsea considered this as she held open the first door to her right. "Hm...once or twice per month is...maybe the average. Illness is something we try and power through, but sometimes there are things that do require more serious examination." She gestured. "This is William's classroom, it's basically the library if you can't reach the actual one, for whatever reason."

"Woah."

Chelsea wasn't kidding. The classroom itself consisted of three large wooden square tables, with a series of plush blue chairs surrounding them. That wasn't what was most noticeable, however. There were massive bookcases containing a variety of books, some of them the massive tomes that would be in most old libraries (Pat was fairly sure no one ever read them, but to each their own), and others being a variety of hardback and softback books. That was where the order ended, however, with a variety of armchairs that littered around a loose papered covered desk, that was next to a fake looking fireplace. The papers spilled from the desk, onto the floor and hidden in places that Pat was sure weren't reachable.

Chelsea laughed. "Yep. A real mad professor." She smiled softly. "He's quite something though, isn't he?"

"Is he always that...verbose?"

"Always! It's worrying if he isn't, to be honest."

They glanced out of the window, at the dark sky. "It's so cold here." Pat said.

"Ah, you get used to it." Chelsea hesitated, then put a hand on their back. "Are you doing okay, by the way?"

"I have been better."

Chelsea nodded to this, then indicated that they should move on.

The next room was immediately identifiable as a music room. The variety of sheet music stands, numbering at least thirty, was the most obvious indication of this. As was the large conducting baton which was, presumably, property of Bartholomew.

A few cabinets had been opened, and judging by the expression on Chelsea's face, that was not expected. She quickly looked in them, muttering to herself how Barty would "Flip his lid" when he found out, before turning back to Pat and smiling once more, painfully. "No problem, just...can't be too careful."

"Right."

The last room was the widest of the lot, and it was very clear why. It almost felt out of place in the more scholarly floor. Nonetheless, the large locker room shared one thing in common, and that was that it was immediately obvious to whom it belonged to. Several of the lockers were still open, with a few spare football kits and boots left lying in them. There were also several pictures here like Barty's room. With one minor exception.

"Are those...of Wayne?"

"He made Sam paint several of him." Chelsea rolled her eyes. "Damn footballers."

"Heh." Pat tilted their head. "It's an odd place for a locker room?"

"Yeah, this is a emergency room, mostly, in case the normal locker rooms aren't available, and Wayne just calls it his office because no one can afford to give him a proper one."

"Fair enough."

There was nothing else to say, so with that in mind, they headed upstairs to meet up with the other four members of the group. Once more, there were three rooms, these ones looking about the same size as the locker room. Murmuring came from inside the room furthest down the corridor, so they headed over to join them.

The room itself was packed full of computers. Along each of the four walls of the rectangular room, lay a long table, upon which rested as few as four and as many as six computers, depending on the length of said wall. The blue carpet appeared to be very scuffed, no doubt as a result of being used by so many students over such a period of time, though the cream walls appeared to be in good enough condition.

"No no no-"

"Anything?" Chelsea asked, clearly spotting what Pat had already seen, that Tara was clearly in the middle of some breakdown or other.

"Internet's down across the board, Tara's drying to get Wi-Fi back up and running, but it's taking an ice age." Al looked weary. "And she has been none too shy about letting us know it's not going well."

"FUCK!"

"So, er, so I see." Pat hesitated. "So, um...any chance it's just the one computer that's not connecting?"

"Nah." Jamie shrugged. "We've tried a few of them, no dice."

"What about those ones?" Underneath the table lay three or four different computers, each one carrying a significant amount of dust. Al shook his head and pointed to the nearest one. Pat peered and realised that the screen was cracked.

"Huh."

"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-" Tara bit her lip so tightly that Pat feared she may draw blood.

"How about we take a moment?" Al put his hands on her shoulders, as she began to slam her hands on the keyboard. "Orrrrrr not!" He hesitated. "Oh, Roy's not back yet?"

"Where, uh, is he?"

"Probably in either the trophy room or the student council meeting room." Al looked at Tara, who had her face in her hands while Chelsea gently patted her on the back. "As you can tell, emotions are running high."

"I can take a look if you want."

"If you wish." Al shrugged. "Be honest, I'm at a loss for what to do with this situation, but I'm afraid if I leave, things will break down completely."

"That's not a stupid observation."

"Okay!"

Pat left, hesitated and then randomly picked the door closest to their right.

The student council room, they presumed as there were no trophies on display, was about the closest thing to what an average classroom looked like thus far in the academy. Grey walls covered in noticeboards with various achievements pasted up upon it, including a few records from past students and the occasional photograph of a school trip, and quite a significant amount of wear and tear throughout. Groups of tables shoved together to form three large ones, it was all very nostalgic for Pat.

However, no Roy, which meant that by process of elimination, there was but one room to check.

The Trophy Room was, naturally given it's title, a strange mixture of gaudy and impressive. There was maybe a few feet of actual room to walk about in, the rest of it was taken up with massive display cabinets and table cloth covered stands. The amount of trophies there was staggering.

Roy was sitting on a armless chair, looking around in a manner that indicated he was enjoying the peace and quiet. He looked up in alarm as Pat entered. "Sorry Mx, just wanted to get a bit of calm!"

"It's fine, really." Pat smiled. "I've already been here for a few hours and I'm already exhausted."

"Yes." Roy steepled his fingers. "It's a bit much."

Pat looked around. "Lot of trophies." They said, an understatement if ever they had remarked it.

"Yes, it's been quite hard having to work out how to store them all." Roy smiled and pointed to one. "That one's mine, so the rest of the council insisted that I put it up front and centre."

"Oh, nice!" Pat leaned in and read the plaque."To the winner of the Oxford v Prosperity Debating Tournament, Roy Watson! Oh wow, that is really impressive!"

"Thank you, Mx!" He gestured around. "A lot of the stuff here's better though."

"Don't sell yourself short. I'd kill to get something like this." Pat sighed. They paused, and glanced towards Roy. "The rest of the council asleep?"

"Hopefully!" Roy looked indignant. "I told them repeatedly to get some proper sleep beforehand so that we can have a good meeting tomo-Oh, technically today, I think." He looked annoyed. "Ah, I'm going to get it for being such a hypocrite."

"Heh. Don't worry about it. I'll cover you, if I have to."

"Thank you."

And at that moment, there was a massive crackle of static, and once more, a voice crackled from out of a speaker.

It was not the headmaster's voice.

"ROLL UP! ROLL UP! IT'S TIME TO START! Please make your way to the outside of Building Five for an important announcement! That is not, by the by, a request, it is an order! So get your arses moving!"

It was a horrible, raspy yet squeaky sound. It sounded vaguely familiar, but Pat could not lay a finger on why. Roy looked at them in fear, so they offered a brave smile they didn't really feel. "Let's go see, shall we? We can meet up with the others."

"R-Right."

And so, as the others emerged from the IT room, they made their way back down the stairs, to the outside.

…

As they exited the building, a large table caught the attention of both Pat and Roy, on it were a selection of tablets that hadn't been there a minute before. Quickly, Roy scooped them up and followed after the rest of the teachers. They saw the rest of the teachers returning. None of them looked to be in a good mood.

Chelsea appeared to be about to ask what was going on, but Laura answered for her. "Somehow we've been walled off!" She pointed behind her. "Everything bar our quarters and Building Five is behind some sort of barricade."

Glancing behind her, Pat could see that Laura wasn't joking. Large yellow walls, the kind you might find on a construction site, had been erected. _I wasn't paying attention coming in, but I'm one hundred percent positive that those weren't there._

"Any luck on your end?" Sam asked.

Judy looked as though she was going to throw something. Or someone. Taylor coughed and shook his head. "According to her, the security hut is pretty much as she left it, no disturbances of any kind. That being said, there's no guards here, and if there was a scuffle like Wayne said, it's been cleaned up sharpish."

"Phones are down too." Nadia slapped away an insect. "Oh this is just great! What about you? Anything?"

Pat's group sadly shook their heads. Roy, appearing to be staggering underneath the weight of the tablets, passed them around, so that by the time that only his was left, each member of the group had their own tablet.

"Password to the reception computer's changed." Al looked to Aisha. "I don't suppose you can check it out for us when we go back?"

"I-I can give it a try once whatever…you know, this is." She glanced around, fearfully. "Did any of you recognise that voice?"

"I'd really hope not, poppet! It would rather ruin the point!"

There was two seconds worth of silence as the twenty figures looked at each other. Then as one they turned their head towards the sky.

Atop the building stood a small figure, crouched over to the point where he almost appeared hunchbacked. Surrounding him was what appeared to be a small armoury's worth of weaponry, guns of all shapes and sizes aimed directly at the group.

The figure suddenly leapt up into the air as if he was Superman, before landing down on the ground with such force that the tarmac cracked. He straightened up, coming just to about Al's size, and grinned, flashing razor sharp teeth, the kind that would have made sharks jealous. His 'skin', an unnatural reddish pink that appeared more like paint than a normal pigment, also had the appearance of being stretched to near breaking point over his...curious facial features. He had a long, sharp nose, a pointed chin that defied all physics and jagged red eyes, that looked like lightning bolts had been carved into his face. He wore what, at first sight, appeared to be a clown's outfit, but in reality was just clothes constructed to look that way. A faded-blue vest with comically oversized crispy black sleeves and baggy pants, with a pair of dirty red boots. To complete the ensemble, a cap of a similar colour rested upon his head, drooping to the side.

That was the trigger for much shouting and confusion.

"What even the hell?"

"O-O-Oh god!"

"How did it…did we-?"

"It talks! Why does it talk?"

"Awwwwwwwwww yes, that's the way to do it! Did you see my fucking landing!?" The voice was, impressively, managed to be almost human-like. That made it worse. A raspy yet high pitched voice, with the faint background noise of what was referred to in puppetry circles as a swazzle. It all felt very unnatural. "I'm something of a celebrity m'self. Mr Punch, at your service. I am an inspector, of sorts, and also your new chief of security! Sorry, Judy, but it needed to be said! You fucking suck."

Judy growled and moved forward. "You have ten seconds to explain what the hell is going on, and then I'm going to do my job!"

"Oh there's a first time for everything!" Punch grinned. It was not pleasant.

"You listen to me!" And Judy strode forward, grabbed Punch by the neck, lifted him up...

And froze.

"Now see, here's the deal." said a second, far more monotone voice. "You keep him in that position, and I'll have to get your co-workers to change theirs. Namely from standing, upright and alive, to lying down, dead and in millions upon millions of tiny pieces. I will do it, upon my word."

Judy hesitated for a moment, her eyes locked on the guns, slowly moving back and forth as they began to focus upon the teachers. Then, furiously, she dropped Punch, who landed smack on his arse, still grinning.

The speaker was that of a woman. In nearly every way, she was a contrast to Punch. Tall, ramrod straight, she moved like a human, except not quite. Humans, for instance, didn't actually appear to be gliding across the ground upon which they walked. Though it seemed strange to all of them, it was at the very least clear that this woman was not human. The metallic silver skin that shone in the light and nearly dazzled everyone. She wore an old Victorian dress, alternating black and white colours split in two vertically, the black appearing more tatty than the white. The only thing that the two of them had in common was the eyes. The same lightning bolt shape, the same bizarre red colour, and the same...malice.

William did not appear to be impressed. "Ho! And what, pray tell, are you? Some demented sex-bot that this monstrous puppet has for his own pleasure?"

"I wish." muttered Punch. The woman glared at him and then turned back.

"I am Monoline." She said, sternly. "Consider me an Inspector. I will be running this operation and assessment along with my associate. Please note that if any of you wish to leave this Island, you will not. Even in your original position, you would not be able to make it to land before drowning."

She paused, and then added impressively. "And you are most certainly not in your original position anymore."

"So, to the little Amadeus wannabe back there, don't go in the water. Or do, and die!"

"Get back here!" hissed Sam, grabbing Barty, who had almost broken free of the group. "Don't you bloody dare!"

Punch sniggered. "No, no, if he wants to, let him! It's his funeral, literally! No skin off my teeth! And for the record, if anyone else has the thought of trying to get out at our expense-"

There was a rapid fire series of clicks, and the entire rooftop of Building Five seemed alive with guns pointing directly at the group.

"-well, we'll try and give what remains of you some respect. We won't mock you for a good, oh, five minutes."

"What do you want?" Roy's fear was very clear in his voice.

"A lot of things. Money! Fame! Sunscreen! Oh, and more specifically, to announce the first, Prosperity-Exclusive….Killing Game"

If he had expected a reaction to this, they were sorely disappointed. A few more murmurs rose up, but not much else. Everyone appeared to be more baffled by Punch being, well, Punch.

If they had expected a reaction to this, they were sorely disappointed. A few more murmurs rose up, but not much else.

"Hmm…no, that's fair, we need to explain this better!" Punch cleared his throat. "So, here's the deal! This Island is under our control now. The sections we've cordoned off aren't for your access. Try it, and, well, again, GUNS. So, good news and bad news. Good news, you can go on ahead as you would normally here."

"Bad news-" Monoline interrupted, grimly. "-you're not getting a break. You're staying here-"

Both pair of eyes glowed bright red before she intoned a simple statement.

"-for the rest of your natural life."

Now that did garner a reaction.

Not the one they might have been expecting, however.

Mocking laughter cut through this announcement. Robert seemed to be leading it, but it was clear that quite a few of the others were joining in. The quieter members of the group weren't joining in, but it was clear from their expressions that bemusement was the only thing running through their own minds.

"That is ridiculous!" snapped Chelsea, cheeks red with stress. "A few hours and you've managed to take out every other security guard and the headmaster? You're having us on!"

"You're ludicrous, you know!" Robert grinned. "You're not scaring us, you freaks! What are you going to do? Lecture us to death?!"

Theresa tapped Martin on the shoulder and a piece of paper. Martin read it, widened his eyes and looked up.

"Where the hell are the students?"

"Welllllllll-" Punch smiled, thought for a moment, and shrugged. "I dunno." He slammed the ground. "Enough of this shit, You don't need to know anything about them! They're not the ones you need to worry about. Look to your own ranks if you want to, getting stuck on here for the rest of your lives must be...quite galling for some of you."

"Oh come on!" Aisha looked more annoyed than anything. "We're not going to turn on each other, we've read Lord of the Flies, we're teachers for goodness sake!"

"My my, so sure! ….Well, I mean, I get it. No one wants to stay here forever. But you will, cause we've got a Punch approved, honest to god Killing Lesson Plan in place for you. Still, there is one way off."

There was silence for a moment.

"Well?!" Nadia snapped.

"Kill someone."

It was said so casually. That was what made it worse. Like saying "What nice weather" or "Interesting jacket". Like it didn't matter. Like it wasn't a big deal. Monoline's statement was, like what else she had said thus far, cold and to the point.

The response was far more to their taste, judging by the look on Punch's face. There was still some laughter, but this seemed more...uneasy, somehow.

Punch continued. "Course, killing someone isn't just what you have to do, it's more a...starter. The main course is what in the Killing Game business is referred to as a Class Trial. All of you that remained will be made to render judgement upon the guilty party, or blackened, after a period of investigation! If you find the blackened, they get what's coming, but if you fail, they get out and you are left to reap what others have sown for you. It's not fair, but then, what in life is?"

"I'm a linguist and I have no idea what in _Gott's_ name you are saying." called out Jean.

"This is ridiculous." Aisha drew herself to her full height and glared at the two of them. "How can you do this?"

"Quite easily!" Punch said, matter of fact.

"You still do not believe us." This was a statement, not a question. Monoline looked to Punch, then to the assembled crowd. She sighed. "Well, in case you don't believe us, perhaps this will convince you."

There was, probably deliberately, a gap between the two figures. It wouldn't be empty for long.

The figure flickered in place, sound cutting in and out. It was hard to make out what the noise was at first, but Pat realised what it was with a sinking feeling in their stomach. An electronic scream, fluctuating in volume and length, emitted from the mouth of HALLIE.

At last, the image of her stablilized. She had undergone a radical change. Her right eye had been gouged out, in similar fashion to the other two creatures, her tunic looked to have been transformed into a horrible mishmash of black and white lace and stitching, leaving areas on her arms and legs exposed, and on these areas, ghostly white puppet strings appeared to have painfully been attached.

"HALLIE!" Tara charged forward, racing towards them. "What did you do to-"

The guns fired. HALLIE let out a cry as the ammo inside arced towards her creator. But, with a sudden rush of speed, Wayne knocked Tara to the ground, and dragged her back as the bullets thudded into the ground.

"i-" HALLIE groaned, then yelped as Monoline touched...something on her arm, and she stammered out. "-I will announce the rules of this...th-this new killing game, to you all."

"How is that even possible?" Taylor hissed.

"It shouldn't be!" Judy snarled back.

HALLIE shuddered, as if an invisible person had grasped her neck. As she spoke, Pat's tablet pinged, and they opened it up. The screen, an image of Prosperity's logo in black, white and grey, were quickly covered with light green text. HALLIE recited the rules word for word, punctuation mark for punctuation mark. Pat's eyes widened as they read each rule.

 **Rule #1:** Participants will reside only within the perimeters of the Island, and all buildings within. Leaving campus is an unacceptable use of time.

 **Rule #2:** "Nighttime" is from 10 pm to 7 am. Some areas are off-limits at night, so please exercise caution.

 **Rule #3:** Sleeping anywhere other than the residential quarters provided will be seen as sleeping in class and punished accordingly.

 **Rule #4:** With minimal restrictions, you are free to explore the areas available to your heart's content.

 **Rule #5:** Violence against the inspectors is strictly prohibited, as is destruction of 'school property'.

 **Rule #6:** Anyone who kills a fellow participant and becomes "blackened" will graduate, unless they are discovered.

 **Rule #7:** Once a murder takes place, a class trial will begin shortly thereafter. Participation is mandatory for all surviving participants.

 **Rule #8:** If the guilty party is exposed during the class trial, they alone will be punished.

 **Rule #9:** If the guilty party is not exposed, they alone will graduate, and all remaining participants will be punished.

 **Rule #10:** Additional school regulations may be added if necessary.

"This is bull!" Wayne sounded legitimately angry now. He laughed, but it sounded more breathless and unnerved than it was probably meant to. "You're...you're full of shit!"

"I have a few questions for ye." Peter's voice was ridiculously calm, considering all that was happening. "School property. What does that constitute?"

"Don't destroy anything you'd realistically have to pay for."

"...Fair point. And punishment, what does that entail?"

"Oh that's something you'll have to find out for yourself."

"Do you think we're stupid?" Pat found themselves speaking up, and they had no idea why that was happening. "We're...We're not some test subjects or something! We're...We're not going to throw someone under the bus just for the hell of it!"

"Bravo!"

"Well said!"

"Hmm...I'll remember you said that." Monoline smiled. It was not pleasant in the slightest. "We'll let you get settled in."

Punch smirked. "Oh, and by the way, to Big Bang Theory girl over there, your A.I's sticking with us. There's so MUCH here to learn about." He leered at HALLIE, who flinched. "All right poppets! Don't disappoint us now!"

There was a loud crack, as if from above, and as everyone's eyes raced up to the guns, the three figures vanished as if they had never been there.

For a split second, there was nothing but the wind and a bizarre silence.

Several of the others let out breathes they weren't aware that they had been holding in. Pat felt their knees buckle, and sliding to the ground, they gripped onto their arms, breathing in and out again and again. Despite their words, there was no doubt that this was all so strange and terrifying, and the panic began to set in.

"Easy, easy." They heard someone say. "Come on, we...we should head back to the cafeteria, catch our breath, work out something for god's sake."

There was, once more, unsure murmurs of vague agreements. Pat was helped to their feet by Al, who looked at them with a confused expression that was probably engraved on their own.

They entered the cafeteria, and instantly Martin headed for the kitchen. Without a word he immediately got to work preparing food, dragging stuff out of the fridges and moving things aside. Pat could hear this even as they took deep breaths, not quite calming but certainly cooling down the raging hot panic that was in their stomach.

"Must be a record for worst bloody first day ever." Peter remarked, not entirely unsympathetically.

Pat laughed, weakly. "Yeah."

Martin bustled on through, handing out food to everyone seated. "I'm not too sure about the food situation." He remarked, once he was sure everyone had something. "I can take stock later, if you want. I think we're good for at least a month."

"Which we won't be here for!" Aisha said, defensively, staring at a rather ashen faced Roy.

"Wh-Oh no! Course not! Just...just a precaution!"

"That was ridiculous." Nadia glanced around. "As if any of us could ever do something like that."

"It would be illogical to dismiss the ideas outright." Peter said, coolly.

"It would also be illogical to assume that we'd crack that easily." Sam glanced around. "For God's sake, we live on an Island that's near completely isolated from the mainland as a norm. If Martin's right, we've got enough food to last us for a good while, we all know each other, what the hell do they think's going to happen to change our minds?!"

"I have a horrible feeling that they have already prepared for that." Taylor murmured.

"Well talk of that nature is hardly going to get us anywhere, is it?" Laura snapped. "...All right. We have to do something. Any suggestions?"

Tara sniffed. "I-I-If I can get a h-hold on HALLIE, we m-might be able to understand what their idea is." She wiped her nose. "i-i didn't know wh-what I was looking for before, but maybe this time?"

"That's...an angle to look at." Laura was nothing if not discreet. "Any other ideas?"

William coughed. "It occurs to me that perhaps we have been too hasty in declaring there to be nothing we can do. It is possible that what one group of people may have missed in this building, or perhaps around the Island, another may be able to locate it, with a fresh set of eyes perhaps."

"That's a point!" Chelsea's eyes began to sparkle. "Maybe there's something around that we've missed!"

"A full scale search of the areas that we've missed?" Laura considered this. "It might be worth doing. Nice thoughts, William."

"Bah!" William blushed, all the same.

"We can do this!" Wayne grinned. "Come on, have at it!"

...

This optimism did not last.

Another check of the Island, this one in far more depth and taking the remaining hours of the morning and a good portion of the afternoon, had revealed nothing but the same. Walls springing up, stopping them from going where they were not wanted, no signs of any other people having been there, and every time one of them had gone near the water, the faint but distinct sound of large jaws snapping shut. No one had any idea what those were, and no one dared to venture in that direction to find out.

"So what now?" Sam asked the question to a crowd of weary, nervous people, all of whom were deep in thought.

"We could always-"

"We're not going to try and swim." Laura glanced at Wayne, who glowered but simmered down. "They do have a point, even if we haven't moved, chances are we'll still drown before we reach land."

Tara closed her eyes. "Uh, I-I think maybe I-I should try the computers again? It may be p-possible, now I know what the problem is, to h-h-hack into them and s-send a message out for help."

"Those things are supposed to be unhackable! My group have run every test they can think of upon them, no one's been able to get in without us knowing!"

"Then how, Judy, did they get control of HALLIE?" Taylor growled, the faint note of distress in his voice giving way to annoyance.

"Look, that's fine and all, but I think we should maybe get some sleep." Martin held up his hands as everyone turned to look at him. "Listen, it sounds barmy, but we're all pretty much running on fumes. That nap we took isn't long enough to fully recharge our batteries, we can approach things properly once we've slept it off, take the rest of the day off and then wake up fresh and early."

"As fresh and early as can be." Laura nodded. "I think that's a damn good idea."

"How can we be sure that those two won't murder us in our beds?!" hissed Jean.

"Well they could have just killed us while we were all gathered together." Pat pointed out. "But they didn't."

Jean offered the supply teacher a look that indicated that this suggestion was neither wanted nor appreciated. However, she said nothing, and agreements were made to head back to their rooms and get the best rest they could in the situation.

"Um...w-where am I going to sleep?" piped up a small, scared voice.

Everyone turned to see Roy, looking smaller than ever and, though clearly trying to put a brave face on it, completely out of his depth. His hands shook as he grasped the table. "The rules say I have to sleep in official quarters, but my lodgings have been locked away behind that wall."

"There's always one or two rooms spare!" Chelsea said, encouragingly. "And worst come to worst, we can always...share..." She pinched her brow. "Oh, realised how that sounded far, far too late."

"Wh-what about the rest of the students?" Roy asked, unable to stop the stutter slipping out.

"Well, considering that we've not seen any signs of violence with the exception of the walls and HALLIE being hacked, it's entirely possible they were evacuated while we were knocked out."

"Oh, right."

Pat wasn't sure if Roy fully believed this, but he didn't raise much of a fuss.

And so, in silence, they all walked towards the average-sized brickhouse that lay nearer inland, right in front of a massive yellow wall. The door was unlocked, and they all entered it, closing out the cold. The warmth felt odd after all the threats and the oppressing atmosphere, but it was not unwelcome.

Small was the term for it, a small sitting room that could, at best, handle maybe five people at a time on battered looking green couches, and a kitchen that would have been great for maybe a nuclear family, but not this.

The stairs were creaky, and Pat at several points feared that each step would be the last one to bring the whole thing crashing down, but no fear. The first floor was essentially a landing with five doors roughly slammed into place. "Come on, Barty." said Sam, wearily. "Let's get to bed." Putting their arm around him, he led Barty forward. "Goodnight, all of you."

"Y-You'd better come up with something!" Barty said, but if this was meant as a threat or as encouragement, both fell flat. The door slammed shut.

"Right, well, that's me." Martin held out a hand, and Pat shook it. "Nice to meet you, Pat. Wish it was in far better circumstances, but, still."

"T-Thanks." Pat suddenly felt very shy and tired.

Martin sighed. "We'll all be able to think clearer tomorrow, I hope."

Nadia smirked. "You think so, big guy? ...Well, it's a nice thought, isn't it?" She raised a hand. "Later."

"Y-Y-Yeah." Maria sniffed. "Hopefully we can s-s-save HALLIE as well." No one decided to argue that, seeing as it would be a waste of time.

Judy didn't even bother with saying goodnight, she just stormed into the room, closed the door and, judging by the creaking of the floorboards and the sound of springs, sat down upon a bed facing the door.

As the other three departed, Laura offered a weary look to Pat, as if to say 'Could be a lot better'.

The next floor was very much the same. Five doors, a small landing and little else.

"Well, unless one of you decides to show their inner psychopath, I'll be seeing you in the morning!" Robert took Theresa's hand firmly, contradicting his own jokey tone in the process, and walked to their room. She barely managed to wave before they were inside and the door was shut.

"Sorry. Pat, um, hope you have a good night." Al offered a weary smile, before turning to his own room. William, by far the most cheerful out of all of them, offered a wink as his parting gift.

"Sleep well, Jean!"

"Ha. I wish." In many respects, it would have been better if Jean had slammed her door. At least then there would have been an understanding of how she was feeling.

"Right, this is my stop, darling. Aisha, can you put Roy up, if you can? There's a spare room on the top floor, it's pretty rundown but it'll do for now."

"Yes ma'am!"

"Thank you!" Roy said, swaying slightly on his feet.

"No prob. Get some sleep. Same goes for you too, Pat. Got to be ready and willing for tomorrow." Laura offered a grand-dame like wave, before exiting the door with all the pomp and circumstance befitting one of her talent.

"Next one is yours." Aisha remarked to Pat, who merely nodded.

There wasn't much to say.

On the third floor, Wayne stomped off without even so much as a goodbye. Aisha rolled her eyes. "Typical." As Chelsea, Taylor and Jamie said their goodnights and went to their room, she pointed Pat to the door in the middle. "That's yours! It's not quite as finished as we would have liked it to be, but, you know-" She smiled weakly. "You can manage, I hope?"

Pat looked at Aisha, then the slightly blistered door, and then to Roy. Truth be told, they weren't sure, not at all. Everything had gone so bizarre and odd and unreal that managing had not really entered their mind.

But looking at one of their students face, they resolved to manage it. They offered what they hoped was a far more energetic smile than they had previously offered. "Of course. ...I wonder if HALLIE put my luggage here." They shrugged. "Ah, I'll work it out."

"Good night, Mx." Roy went to remove the coat. But Pat waved it off.

"It's fine, you can give it back to me tomorrow, if you want."

"Oh...Well...okay." Roy yawned. "Thank you. Night."

"Goodnight." Pat said, and watched as Roy followed Aisha and Peter up the stairs to the last, and smallest, floor. Peter stopped, looked at them and considered.

"Yer pretty logical." He paused. "Interesting to see what ye'll do on a more level playing field."

And then he followed them up.

Pat had no idea what that meant, and quite frankly, they were too tired to work it out. Pat closed the door with a long, slow sigh.

With that sigh, most of the strength they had managed to cling to, be it from the presence of the other staff members or just out of sheer willingness to not let either of the robots get to them, flowed out. Their legs buckled, and they slowly slid down, back against the door, and looked blankly around their room. Their home for...for however long they were alive ( _Don't think about that, don't think about that!_ ) and well here at Prosperity.

It was a small room, no larger than one of the bathrooms at a typical comprehensive school. The oddly battered looking paint on the walls was light beige, running until it hit varnished skirting boards and one solitary windowsill. The carpet was a dark green, in better shape than the walls to say the least.

Their attention turned to the bed (Their bed, they had to remind themselves). It looked fine, a single bed with clean white linen, a light blue quilt and comfortable looking pillows. There was a gap between bed and floor, enough that maybe they could wriggle underneath it, given the chance.

The one remaining light source, save for the bulb hanging above, was from a small cabinet-like room, small and secure. Judging from the grey lighting and the tiled floor, a bathroom of some sorts.

And there was their luggage.

With the ennui rapidly getting to them, and the events of the day coming crashing down, Pat ignored it all together. Instead, they merely dragged themselves towards the bed, fell atop the covers, and just lay there.

Sleep was a long time coming, and even when it did come, it was a fitful sleep, filled with strange mechanical creatures, smiles that were not quite smiles, bodies in so many varieties of disarray and dismemberment and the gleeful, cackling voice of Mr Punch over all of it.

"ROLL UP! ROLL UP! IT'S TIME TO START!"

 **KILLING GAME: START  
** **PARTICIPANTS REMAINING: 20  
** **CONTINUE?  
** ** _Y_ /N**

* * *

 _And that concludes the Prologue! This should hopefully show what HALLIE's purpose is going to be in the fanfiction for the moment, though obviously as things get along. This is the awkward chapter on my part, as I've got to get across a lot of exposition that I imagine most of you know about, but the characters don't. I hope I made it, at the very least, entertaining._

 _Also, I figured I should note my inspirations of the mascot characters this time around. Mr Punch is based off of the main character of the oft-repeated Punch and Judy puppet show, it's fairly British so I felt it suited a UK based killing game in the same way that Monokuma is made to be a twisted parody of a popular Japanese icon. The inspiration for Monoline is far less certain, the name and look comes from the character Madeline, a ragdoll in the popular British show Bagpuss, but in general it's more based around the stop motion shows that we got in the sixties to eighties. So, hope that maybe threw a little light on the situation. Or you just think I'm talking too much. XD. Never mind!_

 _Thank you for reading, and I will see you next time!_


	5. Chapter 1-Part 1A

_**TheRoseShadow21:** Thank you! Yes, that does make sense, there's a lot of fun to be had with how people react to the announcements, in real life I don't think people would immediately go ahead and think of things as a Killing Game. Hope you enjoy this!_

 _Much of this part is testing the waters to see if my writing style carries across well enough. I'm eschewing the script format for the FTE's (And the trials) though I will be incorporating the mini-games in as best as I can. Obviously, if this is silly or could be improved on, please tell me and I will make sure to fix it at some point. I'm trying to avoid scripts, as I prefer writing in prose, so hopefully you think it's working well enough as it is. Bold/italicised answer is correct one, by the one._

 _Let's get to it!_

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE**  
 **BEGIN.**

To the ears of Pat, the morning started with the following noises.

 _ **DING-DONG, DING-DONG.**_

Click.

"This is your wake up call, poppets! Feel free to move your arses into second gear and get a move on, it's a lovely-ish day outside!"

 _Oh._

 _Ugh._

 _Hmm, okay, so this is…_

 _Right, hold on._

Pat slowly opened their eyes, and let the glare of the light wash over them for a few moments before attempting anything incredibly vigorous like trying to sit up.

The ceiling was different. So was the bed. And the smell. This was not their room back at the house, this was…

Right, right, Prosperity and-

And then everything rushed back at once.

Pat froze for a moment, slowly trying to compartmentalise and comprehend things at the same time. The images and words and everything rushed back to them unimpeded, so making sure that everything in order was probably a good first step before starting the day.

At last, they did so. They stood up, took a whiff of their clothes and groaned. Staggering towards the wardrobe, they pulled it open, and boggled.

There were, at a rough count, twenty of their outfit all neatly hanging up on clothes-hangers.

Pat's mind, formerly at the very least settling upon an equilibrium, now bucked again at the sight of this. Dully, they reached for the nearest selection, and got dressed before looking at their luggage reluctantly.

A quick judgement of the surrounding rooms indicated that either the others had gotten up or left yet, so there was no harm, Pat reasoned, in examining whether or not the contents of their bag had survived the trip.

They didn't sort things out, just checked that all was well and slid them to one side. Pyjamas, swimwear, toothbrush and toothpaste, nail file, hair dryer, digital clock, pen, pad of paper, a few weighty tomes on each subject in case of emergency, a few photographs (Carefully put on the side instead of thrown) and, yes, that did seem to be everything. They hadn't kept an itinerary or anything, so they could check in more detail later.

Feeling perhaps the tiniest bit better about things, Pat checked themselves over. Nodding, they grabbed their tablet and moved as quietly as they could out the door, closing it and then moving down the stairs as fast as they could without fear of breaking something vital.

There was no one in the small kitchen, so Pat made the assumption that anyone who would already be up would be at Building Five again. So, taking a deep breath, they moved forwards quickly.

 _All's the same_ , they thought as they crossed over the tarmac and watched as the yellow walls glared down at them judgementally. _Thought it would be, but still, bit of a shame. Oh, but I didn't notice that before._

A large tree, one that looked almost Disney-like in how gnarled and twisted it looked, rested rather close to the back end of the house. It almost touched, it was quite something to see.

"Noticed Old Faithful, eh?"

Pat almost jumped as Laura strode across to meet them. She looked much better than she had last night, clearly the sleep had done her the world of good. "I-Is that the tree?"

"Yeah." Laura shot it an almost nostalgic look. "That tree was young when I was here. It's almost as old as me." She offered a quiet smile. "There used to be a whole forest of them that sprung up, but they had to cut it down. And for whatever reason, that one just wouldn't budge. So it's been kept there as a…memento, I guess."

"Of what?"

Laura shrugged. "Man conquering the elements? I leave the symbolism stuff to the directors, darling." She looked approvingly at the outfit. "So, you also had the twenty pairs of clothing in your wardrobe, yeah?"

"Yes! I…I assume that's not standard faculty procedure?"

"No it is not!" She smirked as they walked ahead. "I'd never be seen dead in the same thing for an entire week's worth of living. Most of my clothes appear to have been removed or something." She shrugged. "I'm not nearly as angry as I thought I'd be."

"Same." Pat glanced down. "I, er, was going to have my normal clothes sent over by the boat, so I guess this is a lucky break for me."

"Heh."

They entered Building Five, and the cantina, in good spirits. Their arrival meant that there were now eight people in all together.

On the left hand side, near the window, Price appeared to be practically vibrating in his chair with energy. "Oi oi, ladies!"

"Be nice." By contrast, Al was once again on the verge of sinking through the floor, but he had enough energy to offer up a friendly grin to Pat, who returned it with veracity. "Feel better?"

"A bit. Still worried though."

"Ah, we'll crack it!" Chelsea's smile was back in full force today, as she and Maria sat together reading over a few notes that the latter had clearly scribbled. "I'd much rather be here with you than a bunch of strangers."

"Y-Yeah." Maria was, at the very least, not cussing the place down, so that was a start, Pat supposed. "I'm s-sorry if my attitude offended you."

"It's…fine." Pat was confused, why was she apologising to them, exactly? Wayne appeared to be of a similar thought process and none too subtly scoffed at this.

Sitting a little on his own, sketching away and murmuring things to himself, was Roy. He was busy sketching a few things. As Laura joined to talk to the others, Pat headed over to check on Roy. "Hello!"

"Hello, Mx!" Roy smiled, far more relaxed, apparently. "Thank you for the coat! I can give it back to you, if you want?"

"No, it's fine. I've literally got twenty of them." That got a genuine laugh out of Roy. "What are you drawing? If you don't mind me asking?"

Roy paused, and then slid it over for them to see. "It's a floor map." He said, embarrassed. "I like art a lot, and I figured that maybe it would be useful seeing what…I guess, options we have?"

"That's great!" Pat smiled. "This is coming along great!"

"Apologies, apologies for the wait!" Martin bustled through the door, completing the octuplet set with a large tray of various things. He quickly and deftly, for a man of his size, handed each person what they had clearly ordered, and then glanced at Pat. "Morning." He said, a look of concentration on his face that was a little intense.

"Uh…morning?"

"Hmm….coffee? Maybe something sugary?"

"That, I..yeah!"

"Perfect!" He grinned, and vanished back into the kitchen.

"It is literal magic the way he does that." Chelsea said in answer to the massive unspoken question on Pat's lips. "Don't question it!"

"GOOD MORNING ALL!"

"Please, not so loud." Al groaned and held his hands to his ears as Robert strode in, looking for all the world like the laird at his castle. Behind him, a drowsy eyed Theresa trailed after him, looking embarrassed.

"Good morning you two!" Laura waved, though seeming a bit intimidated that her enthusiasm was clearly outmatched.

Theresa waved, then collapsed in a chair and stared at the table. Robert shrugged and glanced towards Martin, who upon spotting them immediately ducked down and began to gather more things together.

The last ten came in drips and drabs, for the most part. Sam dragged Barty there, clearly against his will. Then came Taylor and Jean, locked in some form of conversation. Jamie slunk in, not really chatting to anyone, as did Peter. Aisha hurried in with a thousand apologies for not being here earlier, but she had been with Judy who had an important announcement, so if everyone could just wait for a bit? That was fine with Laura, and so everyone waited as Judy entered.

It was as Nadia and William entered that Martin returned with the remainder of the meals, dropping off a mug of coffee and what appeared to be a quiche of sorts. Biting into it, flavour exploded into Pat's mouth, and they had to take a second to catch their breath.

Laura waited until everyone had taken at least three or four bites of their breakfast before turning to Judy. "Now, Judy, you have something to tell us?"

"How important it is, I'm not sure, but it's worth noting that the walls are electrified. I threw a few rocks at it, not pretty, but it got the result I wanted. Stuff's probably gonna give you third degree burns, best case scenario." She shrugged. "So don't try climbing or attacking them."

Wayne responded appropriately. "Ah fuck."

"Language." Peter said, sharp as possible.

"They're teenagers, they're effing and blinding all over the place, don't censor me, dic-"

"Thank you Judy!" Laura could not have been more unsubtle about stopping this conversation in it's tracks if she had been waving a red flag. "That's certainly worth noting. Anyone else? It can be minor, anything we know now saves us time later."

William slowly raised his hand. "I could hardly sleep for fears of what the creatures of the night were doing outside, so I thought I would examine the tablet for any information." He glanced around. "With the exception of the rules, there are a number of other functions that this device uses."

On cue, everyone pulled out their tablets, turned them on and waited.

The screen once more loaded up, but this time it showed five folders spread out horizontally. The first was the one that had clearly been showed off the night before, marked as RULES. The second one was titled as PROFILES.

Curiosity more than anything made Pat click on it. Each member of the group was on there in alphabetical order via first name. Swiping along, Pat glanced down and quickly examined what was on there.

Name: Pat Elton  
Age: 24  
Ultimate Title: Ultimate Backup  
Role at Prosperity: Supply Teacher  
Gender: Non-Binary (Assigned Female at Birth)

That was…odd. Why bring that up? Unless it was part of a ploy to anger them, which it didn't. Not anymore. Too many people said it to hold any actual water with Pat at this point.

Weight and height were the last thing, which weren't really worth noting-

Good grief! Is my chest really that wide? Way to make someone feel self-conscious?

"It's pretty standard stuff, isn't it?" Chelsea's voice was clearly trying to be upbeat, but there was a hint of surprise in it

The next one was marked as VIRUS SOFTWARE, and a quick click on it showed that it was pretty much what it said on the thing. An image of Punch in pixel form waved to Pat, and began scanning the pad.

The fourth one was faded, and the words LOCKED AT THIS TIME covered it as Pat tried to click on it.

"I tried that one for most of the night before I had to surrender to Morpheus's embrace." William said, grimly. "I was not sure whether or not you could do something with it?" He spoke to Maria, who looked at it In intrigue.

"I…I can give it a try!"

"Capital!" Laura looked to the last folder. "And this one is…what does this one even say? Photographs?"

"Yes." William raised his own tablet, turned it around and pointed. "I took a few last night as a test. For the most part it appears to function as a normal camera, so I have no clue as to what purpose it could serve otherwise."

"Oh I think you do." Nadia remarked.

William shot her a frosty glare. "Bah! Perhaps. I do, however, understand that suggesting it right now would probably bring the mood down significantly!"

"Yes." Laura smiled at him. "Thank you, it is appreciated."

He scratched his chin and tried not to look too happy.

"Anything else?"

"Just one question." Taylor cleared his plate and shifted forward. "Is there a particular plan we're following today?"

"Not particularly." Laura sighed, and then slowly rested her hands on her chin. "As far as I'm concerned, we can, in our own time, make a sweep of the Island once more. There may be more angles that we are not thinking of that are more clear in the daylight to a more well rested group." She glanced around. "And I trust we're all still agreed that the…preposterous idea of killing someone to leave is off the table?"

Nods all around greeted this, even from the more cynical people.

"Right." Laura stretched out. "Well, given that Martin is clearly in need of assistance in washing up-"

And in a flash, it was as if the entire cantina had emptied out. Pat stared blankly around, too shell shocked to even really move.

Martin poked his head round the door. "Ungrateful so and so's!" He offered this with a slight laugh. "Typical, really."

Pat gathered together the tablet. They considered heading off out of the cantina and the building all together, but something stopped them. Perhaps it would be better if they got to know their colleagues a little better. And with nothing to occupy their time like planning lessons, there was literally nothing better to do. They took a deep breath:

"Hey, Martin!"

Martin looked up, and then beamed. "The meal was okay?"

"It was wonderful! Uh, b-but are you okay to clean all that on your own?"

Martin blinked, and then looked down at the plates as though he was just noticing them for the first time. "Oh! Please, don't worry about that, I'm used to it!"

"Okay, but I've not got anything on." As if sensing that he wasn't sure, Pat added. "I honestly don't mind helping you."

Martin hesitated for a moment, then a warm smile drifted over his face. "Okay then! If you're sure. Feel free to leave whenever you want!" He paused, and then offered an audacious grin. "Dare you enter into the master's lair?!"

 _Hell yes I dare!_

"I-I'm ready for the challenge!"

"Splendid!"

Martin outfitted them in all the kitchen garb, and together they set to work. It wasn't fun work, but what was fun was chatting with Martin about things. They talked mostly about the plans for tonight's meal, and about what Martin had found when examining the kitchen. All in all, it was a decent enough time.

Pat felt as though they and Martin had become a little closer.

In a lull of conversation and the clanking of dishes, Pat changed the subject. "So, uh, if you don't mind me asking, do you often use this place to bake?"

He grabbed hold of a icing covered board and slid it into the sink. "Not particularly, no. Usually if I have to cook somewhere it'll be nearer to where I take my lectures, or back at the digs. But this place works, it's a decent enough set up."

"So you don't usually bake for a large number of people?"

"Ah, no! Mostly as a demonstration on the first lecture, and then I just sit back and watch as the students trip over themselves."

"Oh that's too real for words." The two of them laughed.

Martin handed a plate over for Pat to wipe. "But once a month I try and give some of the kids treats, come to some of the cantina's and take over for the day. The stuff they've usually got is good, but unless there's an Ultimate in the class, it's still school dinners they get."

Pat smiled. "I'd get stressed out over it, I have no idea how you do it!"

"The secret is to prepare in advance. Usually on that day, I won't have something to do otherwise, so I merely bake the night away and then use the actual school hours to assist with the more advanced cooking and so on. It's not all that different with you lot, it's just finding out about specific things people prefer, or pet peeves that turn them off."

Pat was about to say something when they noted the lack of dirty items. "Oh, I think we're nearly done!"

"Wonderful, I'll dry if you want!" Martin grabbed a dish cloth and began to run it over a butter knife. "Now, where was I?"

"Specifics?"

Martin snapped his fingers. "Oh, right, well, take Peter for instance. I know for a fact that he's not a fan of too much sugar in his diet. So I tend to leave any toppings that I would usually give for sheer artistry or flavour's sake off. Mostly he wants healthy stuff, so I'll just give him some sandwiches or something. It does the trick!"

"Huh." Pat was impressed. "Just like that, you can figure stuff out"

"Mm, sometimes. Whereas Wayne loves something with a real kick to it." He laughed. "It's like he injects himself with PURE caffeine every day for the rush ahead." Martin threw Pat a cloth. "Mind wiping the table down?"

"R-Right?" _Hm, okay, I've got this._ "You've worked out quite the system!"

"Ah, it's a knack. Trade secret."

Pat considered this. Was his system the result of:

A; Something he'd picked up in Prosperity  
B: A secret Illuminati style cabal of Bakers  
 _ **C: His family business?**_

"Trade being your family's business?"

Martin's tone didn't exactly darken, but there was a slight…something to his voice that hadn't been there a second ago. "Ah yes, the family. Yes, you tend to pick stuff like that up. Mostly we get a lot of regulars at the front desk, so you tend to get to know them a lot more."

"Oh?" Pat wasn't sure whether or not to push the issue. For it seemed to be something of an issue, that much was clear. "Must have been useful being able to apply those skills here."

"….Yeah."

 _Well….that got awkward really fast._

"Uh, so, question, how'd you know about me?"

Martin's eyes lit up again. "Oh, that' easy. Usually I tend to see how people react to my stuff first time, I get a decent idea of how they like their stuff. I think you like having energy, but not to the point of being too energetic. And who doesn't like sweet stuff?"

"True!" Pat looked down at their handiwork. "Good?"

"That's fine, thanks!" Martin wiped his hands. "I can put the stuff away, you go out and enjoy the sun." He smiled. "Really, thanks for helping out. And the talk was nice as well."

"Er, same!"

 _Martin seems like a really hard working guy. He puts a lot of thought into what he makes and he seems to really enjoy using his talent to the best of his abilities. That being said…he's definitely not comfortable talking about his family business. that's…something to remember in the future. Yet I am curious though, what's the deal with that?_

As they waved Martin off, Pat considered what to do next. It was quite early in the day, and having maybe two or three miles of Island to explore seemed like something to do later, but they were itching to do something of importance. They decided to have a little walk around the building, see if there was anything that they might have missed beforehand.

It was as they reached the second floor that a loud cry went up from the English room. "Ah ha! A pair of idle hands approaches!"

Pat looked around, but thee was no one else. So supposing that they were this pair of idle hands, they walked towards the English room and peeked in.

William beamed and waved them in. "Come, come, I will not be left wanting! I have a request, if I may be so bold?"

"Y-You may?" Pat looked bemusedly at Chelsea, who was the only one still there, who shrugged in confusion.

"Splendid! So, I believe that we should be quite considerate about examining each of our classrooms in great detail. There's a chance that things may have been removed or planted there that would be in our best interest to discover. So Miss Irving has politely offered to assist me in going through everything here and making sure that all is as well as it can be. However, there is a lot of items to go through, so if you dare, you may join us."

Those were a lot of words in a rather fast tone of voice. Pat, with nothing else to do, digested as much as they could and nodded. "Uh, sure, I'm up for that."

"Capital!" William hesitated. "I may just pop down, see if I can get anyone else to help. Feel free to start without me!"

"Oh, okay?"

Chelsea waved him off. "He's such a sweetheart!" She snickered. "Even if he could do with a little less education, if you ask me."

Pat laughed.

"Want to make a start?"

"Yes please!"

As they sat down, Pat caught sight of a open atlas besides her and couldn't belp but ask about it. Damn their nosy nature. "So, erm, none of my business, but what are you looking at in there?"

Chelsea looked down and laughed. "Oh, I was thinking of maybe taking a class somewhere! Once this is all over and so on. And I try not to repeat my trips for a good year or two!"

"Oh, that's cool!" Pat smiled sadly. "Never went on a school trip when I was a kid." _Thanks, sis._

"Oh you are missing out! It's all very well to read about history and occasionally bring some artefacts in, but I've always thought that you can't really understand it unless you've…well, got a first-hand experience." Chelsea sighed, a quiet little smile on her face.

"Bet the kids love that."

"Ha! Any excuse to get out of P.E. And it gives us all a chance to get out of the Academy for a bit, breathe fresh air of sorts. This place is big but with all the people in it, it gets crowded real fast." Chelsea's smile turned a little sadder. "And especially so now."

Pat didn't like seeing her so glum. "Heh. I get that at least. ..So where are you thinking of going?"

"Presently, Spain. We're doing the Spanish Civil War. It's not something that many people cover, mostly it's just a lead up to what the Nazi's did and so on to prove a point, but on it's own it's fascinating to read about. You know anything about it?"

Pat looked startled _. I didn't expect there to be a test_. "Oh, me? Nah, I'm a bit…dense with that stuff."

"Come on! You're not! .Can you at least tell me who one of the leaders was?"

"Uh, I think it was…."

A: Francisco  
 _ **B: Franco**_  
C: Frankincense?

"I think it was….General Franco?"

Chelsea beamed, and Pat let out a sigh of relief. "See? You'd be surprised how many people don't know that when we start out!"

"Oh, I don't know about that. So, Spain sounds like!"

Chelsea nodded. "Mmm. Thing is, it's really interesting when you get the people to debate about these big figures like Franco and a few of the others. Cause on the one hand, he's pretty good with the economy and he kept the Spanish culture alive which does matter an awful lot. But on the other hand, the lengths he went to go beyond 'morally grey' and honestly, he was a real piece of work."

"Oh? And what do you think?"

"Oh, honestly? He's a monster, and what he did wasn't necessary. No amount of arguing can really change that." Chelsea looked towards the window. "It's just interesting to see what happens when a bad man does a few good things. You'd…be surprised how often that gives people a free pass."

Chelsea stared off into the distance for a moment, lost in thought. She snapped back and smiled awkwardly at Pat. "Sorry, er, reminded me of something." She looked around, as if realising that she was back in the real world.

"Are you okay?"

Chelsea's smile returned, genuinely bright. "Yeah! Yeah….so, what about you?"

"Uh, not much to tell."

"Come on! That can't be true!"

The conversation turned to the few times Pat had covered for History teachers and their interests in certain topics, as they sorted through the papers. Chelsea was a really good listener. Pat had learned that Chelsea was fairly passionate and outgoing about history, but there was something in that answer that didn't quite ring true with how she presented herself.

At last, William returned with Sam and Barty, the latter of whom looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

"I'll take a look at what you've got thus far, and see whether or not any of it actually belongs to me." William offered a weary smile. "I appreciate what you have done thus far greatly."

"Barty's room is clear as far as I can tell. Then again, there is a lot less stuff than in here." Sam shrugged. "Then again, I'm an artist, I can hardly complain."

The work went faster than expected. The papers were quickly sorted through, then the books were one by one removed and examined.

"Victorian Erotica Vol 15?"

"That's a study for a paper that they're supposed to be doing." William said, not even looking up. Sam flipped through and whistled.

Chelsea leaned over and blushed, deeply. "Oh…my."

"I didn't know women could bend that way!" Pat said, baffled.

"I don't think you can." Sam snidely remarked. "Or you shouldn't be able to."

"Can we please stop focusing on the pornographic materials please?" William sighed. "I do believe that winning that wager with the demon of physical exercise was not worth it." He chuckled. "Oh whom do I kid, it was!"

Chelsea flicked through, curiously. Her blush continued to rise. Eventually, Pat took the book off of her, and a blushing Chelsea furiously attacked the next lot of books.

"So, at least you've tidied your office up?"

"Bah! Controlled chaos, my dear Elton. Besides, I imagine that should I find anything else of note it will kickstart a avalanche of chaos in this room once more."

Sam cleared their throat, offering a glance to Pat that was…odd. "Might as well tell you now. Price has something planned. Not sure what, don't really think it'll work, BUT at the same time, can't afford to not tell you." They offered a bland, inoffensive smile. "He'll probably call a chat around lunch-time or what have you."

"Duly noted." Pat looked up at the clock. "Been a fun hour or so! Time went fast, didn't it?"

"Always does when you're spending it with your friends!" Chelsea grabbed them all for a group hug. Pat was surprised, but offered a hug back. _No point in avoiding this, right?_

"Mmph!" Sam halfheartedly struggled.

"Gerrof!" Barty said, not nearly as forcefully as he could have.

William just sighed and accepted it.

Pat headed off after that, wondering vaguely if there was anyone else they could go and help, just to make the day go a little faster.

"You know, this attitude of yours is really boring right now."

"Merde, I would be stuck with someone as low as you."

"Big talk, coming from some Essex tart with more boobs than brain."

 _Okay, I walked into something, clearly. Maybe I should just back away-"_

But they didn't get a chance to. Jamie stormed out of the locker room, and flipped the very angry sounding Jean the bird as she stormed back down the stairs. Seconds later, Jean exited and equally as furiously, stormed into William's room.

"Hmm…gonna keep well out of the way of that."

"A wise move." Taylor, coming up the stairs, watched the retreating Jean. "Getting between these two when they start off is not to be advised. Not even Wayne's that bold."

"Heh." Pat noticed that Taylor had his tablet out in his hands, as opposed to being shoved into a pocket like most of the others. "What's with that?"

Taylor did not answer right away. He stepped back for a moment, looked Pat up and down, mouthed what appeared to be numbers and then nodded to himself. "Yes….to answer your question, I require that you don't go about telling what I'm about to tell you."

"Okay. I guess."

Taylor tapped the tablet. "The camera function is useful. There's no way to develop the photos in any meaningful way, but I can lighten and darken them to my heart's content. I figured possibly taking some shots of the Island might give me a proper idea of what we can do this with." He paused. "And also because I've never had the chance to film here."

"Right…and you need me because?"

"Because I'm fairly good with cameras, but I'm not photographer. I want to see if you're a better taker than me, because this could be important! To both this incident and my career!"

"We're being held hostage."

"No better time to learn a new skill!" Taylor offered a quiet smile once more. "Just ten minutes. We'll be having lunch soon, anyhow."

"….Okay, sure."

Outside both Building Five and their living quarters, Pat took as many photographs of what Taylor called 'interesting moments' as they could. Taylor for the most part watched, occasionally adding a comment such as a better angle or distance, but mostly kept silent.

Well, Pat decided, that wasn't going to do.

"So-" They took a photograph of Building Five in a particularly nice bit of sunlight "-how often do you get behind the camera nowadays?"

"Not as much as I should." Taylor shrugged. "I do it sometimes, there are times where Flynt likes me to go out and drum up some free publicity for the school."

"Oh. Like?"

"You ever hear of The Dahlia Queen?"

Pat considered, panicked and then decided that saying the truth was probably the best option. "No, sorry."

"It's fine, barely anyone else did." He shrugged. "Wasn't the best script in the world, and I wasn't that into it, but at least I chose it. And Flynt goes and says that it's too….broody, they can't show that to kids and their parents. Which is crap if you ask me, teenagers love gory films, it's great."

Pat shrugged. "Can see his point though."

"Sure, I can. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Pat sat down for a second, catching their breath. "So, why come here at all then?"

"Why? …Because it pays well." He paused. "And because the film industry is changing again, and it's getting harder for me to get work like this. I'm a bit in a grey area between indie and corporation. And…well-" He changed the subjects "-Besides, there's one of these cycles happening at the moment and I don't want to be caught up in that."

"Cycles?"

"Mm. You know what I mean, right? Last one was in the thirties to sixties, give or take." He looked to Pat, curious. "You know what I mean, right?"

 _Do I-Wait, yeah, actually-_

 _ **A: Westerns**_  
B: Romantic  
C: Animal Pictures

"It's the Western, right?"

"Exactly!" Taylor sighed. "Good percentage of the films made in the first half of the twentieth century were westerns. Before you know, we decided that we might have been a little bit cruel to people who weren't pasty white. And it's the same now, with the superhero films."

"The racism?"

Taylor sighed. "Well, walked into that one, didn't I? You know what I mean! It's all a cycle, and at present, most of my movies tend to get shoved into release dates where they get crushed. Critics are fine with them, but it's not the same, is it?"

"I guess not."

 _Well he seems calm. Knows his stuff too. He seems to be quite dismissive of his films too, which is odd. I'd imagine that his talent would mean than that to him. But who am I to judge?_

 _….Okay, I'm still going to do it, but what the hell?_

"Lunch's ready!" William shouted. "Now hurry up before the barbarian's decide to make us do laps, or whatever it is these sporty types do!"

"That William." Taylor shook his head. "Ta, I guess, for all that."

"Sure."

 _Don't know what that proved, but okay, sure, that was a good waste of ten minutes._

…

As before, the group focused first on clearing away most of the food that had been put in front of them by a rather rushed off his feet Martin. He looked around, satisfied but with a bit of worry etched in his face.

"It's good!" Roy encouraged.

"It's not that. I just hope I don't screw up supper."

"It's fine, mate, it's fine." Taylor wiped his mouth. "Don't rush yourself, we'll just be bale to get something from the vending machine, or, you know, cook something ourselves."

Martin looked horrified at this. "Oh dear god no."

"What?!"

Jamie scowled. "Oh, one time I burn the food-"

"One time!? Five times that I can count, and it wasn't just the whole food. Do you realize how awkward it is having to prepare food on a tiny barbecue because the kitchen's covered in ash!?"

"Ach, Martin, ye're worrying over naught." Peter growled. "A rota would be smart to avoid any unnecessary losses of tempers as well."

Laura nodded. "I'm for that. And seeing as we're done with food pretty much, Wayne?"

"Right." Wayne got up, put his napkin in the bin and glanced around. "Figure we need to prepare an escape plan."

Tara choked on her food. Peter raised an eyebrow. Pat felt excitement course through their veins.

"Now, here's what I figure, and stop me if you think of anything." Wayne rested his knuckles upon the table. "The puppets are right. Water's a fucking disaster. Calling for help is, at the moment, not advisable, unless anything has happened?" Tara mournfully shook her head. "Right. And getting a message out isn't going to be happening. We can't fly, we can't float, and we've got guns trained on our backs. There is, however, one thing we can do."

He paused, seemingly on purpose.

"Well?" Sam snapped.

"We dig." He raised a hand. "Hold your mouths, let me say what I mean. Now, one of the wall's separating this little chunk of the Island from the rest protects the main security building. I suppose Miss Steroids will tell us that there are cameras there, there are files, and more importantly, there are some form of weaponry."

Judy grimaced at the nickname, but nodded. "It's true. Not much, but enough."

"Right. Now, the wall is electrified, right? But here's my thinking. We dig far enough beneath it, make a tunnel from a fair distance away and with enough room for all of us to squeeze under, no small feat for Martin there-" Martin accepted this without even blinking "-and then we get through to the other side. It's not school property, is it, this Island? Otherwise we'd be shot for leaving footprints or knocking over fucking flowerpots, right?!"

No one answered this. No one quite had an answer, or if they did, they didn't feel comfortable giving it.

"Now, we get the weapons, and we fight back. It may just be the two of them, and though they are tough, they will have to fall to our numbers eventually." Wayne sighed. "So that's my plan. Any questions?"

"Do you have equipment for digging?" Chelsea asked.

Wayne paused, and then moved to grab a large sports bag. Opening it up, he pointed to four spades. "Located underneath the old tree, funny enough."

"Laura?" William asked, his eyes fixated on the spades. "What say you?"

She didn't respond straight away. "Roy doesn't come. He stays at the accommodation on the otff chance that it fails." Wayne nodded, and though Roy opened his mouth as if to speak, a glance from the others shut him up. "Any effort is better than none, and if worse comes to worse I'm damn sure going to take the fall for it." She nodded sternly. "All right. We'll give it a try. I think we should all just head off for a bit, get anything we want done out of the way. It'll be evening when we start."

 _This agreed, all departed and left._

So much free time….now what?

It suddenly occurred to Pat that they hadn't really looked in much detail outside of Building Five. No time like the present, they thought, to rectify that.

The south side of this particular section of the Island appeared to be deserted for the most part. It was as they wandered over grass, with a few sections of flowers and bracken that seemed to have been custom made, that it only just sank in to Pat how weird having a man-made Island was.

They had known it had existed their entire life, and yet…there was something about it that made it feel very programmed. It tried to give the appearance of chaos, yet was clearly planned down to the last detail.

"Watch where you're going."

Pat frowned. It took them a minute to realise that the voice was coming from a small embankment, where they may have (Actually, definitely would have seemed to suit them more) tripped had it not been for the warning.

"T-Thanks?"

"Eh." Nadia sounded bored. "…Need your help with something."

"…Okay."

"Testing if the water's good to go in, and I need something heavy."

Oh and this is how I die. Snapped up by…whatever the hell's in the water.

"So I was wondering if you had anything?"

Oh. OH. Right, right, that makes sense. "Let me take a look." Pat made to sit down.

"You can sit here if you want, free country…free Island, any way."

"Oh, appreciate it."

Nadia was sitting on the edge of the embankment, resting on a tiny patch of gravel and sand that was protected only by the water by a small wooden barricade. She looked contemplative as Pat rummaged around. "Nothing?"

"Er, no…hang on-" They pulled out a rather battered looking calculator. "Hmm..it's a crap one. I've got a better one back in my bag, so is this okay?"

Nadia weighed it. "It'll do. Want to watch?"

 _Yeah, sure, why not._

"Okay. Do I have to guess what the experiment is?"

Nadia shrugged.

For the first few minutes, as Nadia examined the angle, leaned forward to check the water and then psyched herself up, nothing was said. Still, it wasn't an uncomfortable silence.

I think we're having a good time?

"So you're making the rounds." It was said so flatly that it was hard to tell whether this was a statement, a question, a challenge or in some weird grey area between the three. So Pat decided to go with honesty.

"Yes." They glanced at Nadia "Is that a bad thing?"

Nadia shrugged. "Probably not." She sighed. "Ah hell, might as well just-" She dropped the calculator in the lapping waves and watched as it slowly began to bob up and down. "Oh, and it floats too. Points for whatever that's called."

 _ **A: Upthrust**_  
B: Friction  
C: Torque

"It's upthrust, right?"

"It's one word for it."

 _...Wow, usually when I've answered a question right I become closer to people. Nadia's locking me out big time._

"…So is there a reason I shouldn't be mingling?"

Nadia hadn't looked up at Pat beforehand. Now she did, and she looked them dead in the eye. "On the surface, no, I'm being paranoid. Still…" She bit her lip "…You're an untested variable, and in this sort of situation..."

The words seemed to be familiar to her, but to Pat she might as well have been speaking gobbledegook.

"…Sorry, just something one of my peers said to me one time." She clicked her tongue as she watched as the calculator drifted ahead. "Basically, if something is rare and unusual enough to stand out, then it's usually for a reason that it's been put there. If something doesn't belong, or does in a particularly out there way, then one is unwise to not take note of it. They used to describe me like that. Took me a while to work out it wasn't a compliment."

Pat did not like where this was going, so they decided to veer back onto more solid ground. "Why'd they think that of you?"

Nadia gave them a look that indicated that she thought them a bit dim. "What do you think?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. Pat bit back their response, honed by many years of mocking looks, patronising comments and brushes that were a little too deliberate to be innocent.

"….You're not wrong in what you're thinking. Just a bit small scale. I'm a scientist. I'm a woman. I'm Indian. To be one would be a massive red flag, but all three? It tends to breed a certain idea about you into their minds. Especially when two very white, very English males are your brothers" Nadia looked wistfully out across the water. "Especially when you've got…never mind."

"What?"

"I said, never mind."

There was a loud snap, and the calculator vanished from view. Whistling, Nadia pulled out a tape measure and tangled it a meter from where it had happened. "So adjusting for that, that makes it…hmm."

"What?"

"Well, at least I know how far we can go before we get snapped up by whatever it is. Peter will be impressed." She stood up, slid the tape measure back in and left without looking back. "Good talk."

 _Was it!? i…don't understand. She's clearly a very smart woman, and very paranoid about me, which is fair. And given what she's just said, it sounds like she's had to face a lot of competition, but…those words...was that a threat? Should I be worried?_

The odd encounter had shaken Pat, so for a while they sat and merely watched the waves. With the grey skies having cleared up, it made the water seem far more relaxing and inviting.

And yet, a few feet away…

Suddenly, Pat stood up, climbed back onto solid ground and began to walk. They weren't really in any mood as to where, but somewhere, anywhere.

 _Okay, why are you freaking out? She's just a little paranoid, and you have nothing to be paranoid about, right? I mean, aside from everything else, but she hasn't outright come out and said something about you being some kind of mastermind, has she?_

 _She's just very, very heavily implied it._

 _And-_

Pat stopped in their tracks.

So too, did the very odd sound of behind them. Almost like…footsteps.

Pat very carefully turned around.

But there was no one there.

Pat blinked once or twice, and then turned around and walked ahead. And though they kept a careful listen out, there was no crunching of shoe upon Isle save for their own. And-

 _Wait, there it is again!_

Pat whirled around-

And smacked Robert right in the face.

For a moment, both were frozen. Pat's mind drew a massive blank at the sight on Robert's face, more baffled than anything.

Then Robert broke the silence.

"Wow. It's a good thing you've not got much in the way of punching. I suppose I walked into that one. Literally."

"Huh?!" They looked around, wildly. "But-"

"Sorry, you were jumpy and…well, I'm going stir crazy. I've tried poking the bear before with Wayne, and let me tell you, if I'd have been a split second slower when he swung those dumbbells, oh boy." He hissed. "Not a good way to go, death by exercise equipment."

"Did…Have you been following me?"

"Nope. …Oh, apart from the few moments in which I was following you, only since you stopped and looked around." He frowned. "Saw something?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Oh I've made you grumpy!" He glanced to the side and groaned. "Oh, hi Theresa…what do you mean, they're not the only ones?! Oh come on, it was a joke."

Theresa paused, scribbled down a few words haphazardly and held them up, pointing to each with her finger.

WITH HOMICIDAL PUPPET/THINGS WALKING AROUND?

"Oh wow, you even wrote the slash down. That's neat."

She flipped the book over to the word FOCUS. Clearly she had had to use it a few times, considering how well worn it was. He held up his hands in a placating manner and sighed.

"Okay. Okay. I'm sorry. …You've seen Nadia here, yeah?"

"Yes. She headed off that way."

"Great. Hope you cheer up and learn to laugh by the time I see you again."

Theresa looked at him retreating with a look of tiredness. She glanced at Pat, and then flipped back to the bare side of the cover page. SORRY.

"It's…fine, guess I'm a little oversensitive." Besides which, I'm not in his sister's good books today, am I? "Is it normal for the doctor to be jumping out and scaring people?"

Theresa offered a smile.

Pat looked around. "Um, d-do you mind if we just…walk together for a bit? Something f-freaked me out a moment ago, and I-"

A quick nod cut her off, and Theresa, seeming even smaller in the daylight, pointed in the direction of the small hut that, if Pat recalled, served as one of the security check-ins. It was the kind of building that appeared to have once been a caravan of some sorts, now anchored down and looking quite quaint compared to the other buildings.

"Oh…sure?"

Well I've not got much else to do.

There was a tinge of awkwardness as they walked over there. Both were silent, one by choice and the other by nervousness. Theresa appeared to be constantly looking around, waving to those she saw but offering little else, and though Pat wondered several times whether she was waiting upon them to start, they didn't want to force them to scribble standing up.

They entered the hut with little problem, Theresa ducking down under a old fashioned kitchen sink to grab two mugs. She tapped a rather old (Last ten years or so) kettle and with a nod of satisfaction, sat down on the sofa.

Pat hesitated. "I, uh….do you mind me talking, or do you want silence?" Theresa considered this, then shrugged. "Okay." Pat paused, and then decided to dive right in. "How do you feel, about what those two things said?"

Theresa paused, then scribbled: BECAUSE I AM A PHILOSOPHER, YES?

"I….yeah, a little?"

Theresa tapped the pen against her teeth, then scribbled again, this time a little slower: IT'S BEING DONE TO PROVE A POINT. DON'T KNOW WHAT POINT, BUT THERE IS ONE, AT LEAST TO THEM.

"Oh." That seemed obvious, but it had needed to be at least stated for it to really sink in. Yes, there was something to that, wasn't there? "You seem very calm about it."

Another hasty scribble: ROBERT'S BEING FLIPPANT. IT HELPS. A LOT.

She smiled, and rolled her eyes a little.

"I imagine being here with someone you care for makes it a little better, in an odd way."

Theresa considered this: A LITTLE, YES.

A pause.

Scribble: I HAVE A QUESTION.

"Oh? Uh….sure?"

Theresa scribbled…then stopped….then scratched out what she had written, and then concentrated for the longest time, as the kettle whistled. She darted over, and knocked it off, before writing down a few more words, then slid it over to be examined.

HOW ARE YOU FEELING ABOUT THIS? ARE YOU WORRIED AT ALL?

As she poured the tea into the mugs, Theresa didn't really glance back. At last, when she was finished, and pulled the milk and sugar with her for Pat to do what they wanted, she looked at them, curiously.

"I…I'm worried, yeah. Because this is actually my first time being kidnapped-" _It's okay to lie about that, right?_ "-and because there are weird things that I've never seen before and they have a lot of power and…and stuff. But I'm not…I'm not thinking that someone is going to kill someone. I think." They hesitated. "Do…Do you think I should be?"

Theresa added a teabag and two teaspoons of sugar to her mug, then a dash of milk. Then she slowly and very deliberately wrote a few words underneath the scribbles.

HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF THE VEIL OF IGNORANCE?

Pat stared as they put their own teabag in. "Uh…" Now, yeah, you have, haven't you? It's…

A: A fantasy novel  
B: A infamous wedding gift  
 _ **C: An ethical debate**_

"It's a ethical debate, right? Like the trolley thing."

Theresa nodded. She opened her mouth, and then seemed to realise her mistake. A brief look of what could only be described as _anguish_ crossed her face, before she bent her face down to the paper and began to write again.

THE VEIL OF IGNORANCE IS AN IDEA. WHAT IF WE WERE TO REMOVE ALL CULTURAL, POLITICAL AND SOCIETAL BIASES OR BELIEFS, AND VOTED SIMPLY ON WHAT IS MORALLY RIGHT.

She paused, looked slightly embarrassed, mouthed the words "Wish I could speak", and then continued.

WITHOUT SPEAKING, I HAVE TO DRAW ON WHAT I KNOW. I THINK THEY'D CONSIDER USING THE VEIL OF IGNORANCE TO JUSTIFY ACTIONS TAKEN TOWARDS YOU. I THINK THERE ARE THOSE WHO, IF PUSH CAME TO SHOVE, WOULD CONSIDER THEMSELVES TO BE ACTING MORALLY BY SAYING THAT YOU ARE THE EASIEST TO SACRIFICE. YOU'RE AN EASY TARGET. THEY HAVE NO RESPONSIBILITY TOWARDS YOU.

It was like being hit in the stomach. Pat gasped, but didn't say anything.

Theresa's eyes flashed with worry. But she did not stop writing.

THEY CAN'T GET RID OF THE IDEAS ABOUT THE REST OF THE PARTICIPANTS, OR AT LEAST, ENOUGH TO MAKE A DECISION LIKE THAT. BUT THERE ARE SOME-

She paused, and then mouthed as if to express that this statement must be remembered above all else: "Some." And then she wrote:

-THAT MAY CONSIDER THE FACT THAT THEY DO NOT KNOW YOU AS SOMETHING OF A BLESSING. AN EASY WAY OUT FOR THEM.

Pat's mind was ablaze. What she had just said was really, really cynical. It was worrying. It was paranoia inducing.

And it was correct to a scary degree.

Nadia…she'd been looking at them weirdly, hadn't she? And Sam HAD been quite off when talking to them about the meeting? Was that a suspicion of being behind it, or maybe sizing them up in case worst came to worst? Or both?

Theresa suddenly grasped their right hand. She grimaced and mouthed a few words, it took Pat a moment to realise what it was she was saying "Just needed to warn you, worst case scenario."

It was getting dark now, fittingly, so it took Pat a moment to realise that their left hand was gripping the table as tightly as they could.

Slowly, they began to breathe, and slowly let go of the table. They reached forward and drank their own tea, hands shaking but now functioning somewhat like they normally should.

"Do you think-" They swallowed. "Do I need to be on my guard?"

Theresa looked annoyed, more at herself than anything, before hurriedly writing: NO! NOT YET. NO ONE WILL KILL YET. I'M SURE OF IT. I THINK THEY ARE JUST JOKING AT THE MOMENT. BUT AT THE SAME TIME.

She didn't finish the sentence.

She didn't need to.

Because they were teachers, weren't they, at the end of the day? And how many times had that excuse come up when asked why no one had told people before it had gotten serious? They were only joking, it was just a laugh, no big deal, no one had thought….Pat hoped they were understanding Theresa. They really hoped they understood what she was trying to do.

"Oi! You two! Digging party starts now!"

Thank god for Wayne. Pat waved a hand through the window as if to say that they would be there now. They glanced back at Theresa, who already looked as though she regretted starting this. "I think what you're trying to do is…make sure I'm prepared?"

Theresa nodded.

"You're not just trying to scare me, and you don't really think someone will die, but at the same time…you want to be absolutely sure."

Another nod.

"And I think that…you'd probably be able to do this a lot better if you could speak, but at the same time, you're making an effort."

Furious nodding there.

"…Right. …Thank you."

Theresa looked unsure, but accepted this with a slight bow. She paused, and then mouthed an apology before exiting the caravan.

The logical part of Pat's brain was saying: _Okay. So she's a bit odd. So who isn't here? I think she's angry that she can't speak as well as she's used to, and she's clearly having to translate things into terms she can understand and explain. And it's not everyone who'd…try and save me, even if it's a bit weird? There's a lot going on beneath the surface._

The illogical part, i.e. the rest of it went thusly: _What am I supposed to do now? Go on like normal?_

 _Yes_ , the logical part said.

 _What?_

 _Yes you go on like you did before this chat. Worried, yeah. Constantly thinking, of course. But she said it, it's a worst case scenario. Besides…who here could actually kill someone?_

 _Do you want me to answer that?_

 _Oh shut up._

"SUPPLY!"

"I'm coming!" It came out as more of a snap than it had intended to be, but Pat didn't care.

They took a deep breath, and made their way to join the others, all of whom were clearly wrapped up and ready for this plan, no matter how ill-advised it would be.

No, stop it, you're being mean.

"Right." Wayne looked at them, in a superior fashion. "First rota's going to be me, Robert, Chelsea and Judy. Afterwards, we'll swap, come up with a system as we go, basically."

"How long are we going to be doing this for?"

Wayne offered a wolf-like grin to Aisha. "Til we get through it, dollface!" He took a deep breath. "Okay, so this area looks pretty fucking loose, so we start here."

And so the four of them went at it. Well, Judy and Wayne went at it. Chelsea and Robert didn't manage to get much of a look in, though they helped with chipping away at the surface.

"Keep going, keep going!"

"I am going, Price!"

"Erm." Chelsea looked at the group, then at the two of them, and then at the group again helplessly. "So should we swap out?"

"Sure! As soon as she gives up, I will!"

"Unlikely!"

"Oh my god." Laura muttered under her breath. She gestured for a grinning Robert and Chelsea to sit down, and then for Sam and a rather weary looking Tara to take their places.

And so it went on.

Eventually, Laura stood up and whistled. The four diggers turned around, Judy and Wayne practically drenched in mud and muck. "All right, that's a-" Her eyes widened at the sight of the hole. "That's very good, actually."

"Don't sound so surprised!" Wayne protested.

"We should probably make sure that this doesn't get disturbed in the night, don't want our Inspectors to fill it in just yet." Laura glanced to Judy and Wayne. "You two need to get some rest, you've done a lot of work today. So, any volunteers?"

That didn't get many responses. At last, however, a weary Martin raised his hand up. "Seeing as I'm not going to be cooking tomorrow, it'll save you all from me fussing about the kitchen!" He said, trying to put a bit of pep into his voice.

"I'll join him." Jamie offered a dry expression. "Someone has to make sure he doesn't fall in said hole on accident."

It was decided, and thus, everyone left for the night.

Pat went back to their room with mixed feelings to say the least. On the one hand, progress had been made and they had gotten to know some of the fellow participants a lot better than they had before.

And on the other…the incident with those footsteps had frightened them a little bit. The situation hand;y changed that much in the grand scheme of things. And still those words Theresa had suggested to them kept nagging away at them.

It was a long time before they got to any sort of restful sleep.

* * *

 _I'm not sure how well I stuck the landing on the last FTE, but I hope I got the gist of what was meant across there. Hope you agree and have a lovely day!_


End file.
